Malum Discordiae
by define-serenity
Summary: [Damon/OC] A vervain-based poison makes its way into the water supply. Old truths are unveiled and age-old certainties are shaken when an old friend from the brother's past resurfaces. SERIES. INCOMPLETE.
1. Maker Mine

**author's notes:** after watching 1x14 _(Fool Me Once_) i had questions about exactly how Damon and Stefan turned, and this idea struck me. the story follows the show's timeline up to that episode and veers away completely from the established timeline after that. please give my OC the benefit of the doubt, she's quite nice once you get to know her.

this story was written during my viewing of season 1, and before the Originals showed up in season 2/3. any similarities between them and my OC are purely coincidental and very lucky guesses! don't hesitate to ask me questions! i hope you all enjoy reading!

**characters:** Amelia (OC), Elena, Bonnie, Stefan, Damon, Giuseppe Salvatore

**setting:** AU from 1x14_ - Fool Me Once_ onward

**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of the CW, Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. Amelia and all other characters labelled (OC) in the header above belong exclusively to me.

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**;;

**chapter one**

* * *

_malum discordiae = apple of discord. alludes to the apple of Eris in the Judgement of Paris, the mythological cause of the Trojan War._

_it is also a pun based on the near-homonymous word _malum_ (evil)._

* * *

It's not every day that she returns to the town she only visited once a century and a half ago.

When she arrives, parking her car up against the tall mansion, it doesn't feel like coming home to a memory. Memories are for humans. History is for vampires. Everything she once was here, everything she once did here, that's history to her. It's behind her, yet part of her, intricately interwoven like lines of a tribal tattoo, interconnecting now with current events.

She's always liked these small towns, but there was something Mystic Falls held – not just in the name – that few other towns around these parts possessed. Vampires had been drawn to it all those years ago, lived here among the people, and had only found their damnation. There were few people still alive today who knew how to properly kill a vampire. Though from what Stefan had told her on the phone, the vampires in that church had been dealt a far worse fate than death.

Two pairs of footsteps make their way towards the door after she rings the doorbell. She can smell they're human, even with the door separating her from them. When the door opens, a sight is revealed to her that would have taken her breath had she still been human. The girl in front of her is the spitting image of a woman she's only ever seen in pictures before.

"Amelia?" the girls asks.

Amelia stares her up and down meticulously. The resemblance to Katherine is uncanny. "You must be Elena," Amelia says.

"I know, I look exactly like her, _it's amazing_," Elena deadpans, the monotone inflection in her voice telling Amelia that she's being sarcastic. Amelia imagines she's heard things like that enough from Damon and Stefan. She also imagines that Elena is the reason Stefan remains here now. His scent is all over the teenage girl.

"Katherine?" Amelia still asks, because she knows how to be polite, and can tell that Elena isn't comfortable with yet another vampire in the mix. "I never met her. And I hope to God I never do," Amelia says. She knows that if she ever meets Katherine in the flesh she'll probably rip the younger vampire's throat out without giving it a second thought. And Damon would hate her for it.

Amelia smiles softly, and crosses the threshold in silence. Stefan and Damon should really do something about this free-for-all-vampires entrance.

"This is Bonnie," Elena introduces the dark-skinned girl standing next to her. "She's a friend."

"Hi," Bonnie smiles sheepishly, and extends her hand. Amelia's not used to humans acting this way around her, especially when they know exactly what she is. Still, she shakes Bonnie's hand, because she doesn't want to seem rude.

As soon as her skin touches Bonnie's, a jolt of electricity travels up both their arms, making them break the connection immediately. "A _witch_ friend." Amelia raises an eyebrow, her interest peeked, and stares at her own hand for a few seconds. "How peculiar." She can hear Bonnie's heart rate speed up inside her chest, so she decides not to look Bonnie in the eyes again.

"Mel," she hears from above her suddenly, and she looks up towards the voice. It's been almost half a century since she's seen him, but she recognises him entirely as he descends the stairs.

"Stefan," she breathes, and opens her arms to hug him tightly. Just like earlier she noticed Stefan's scent all over Elena, she finds Elena's scent on Stefan now, much more potent because Elena is human. She wants to say something about it, but it doesn't seem appropriate with Elena there, and in any case, she has more pressing matters to attend to. "How's he doing?" Amelia asks, and looks Stefan in the eyes.

Elena is not entirely sure she likes the way Amelia and Stefan touch, looking at them now. Neither of them seems to have a problem with invading the other's personal space, while just a minute ago Amelia wasn't even looking at Bonnie.

"He hasn't eaten in two days," Stefan answers, and casts down his eyes.

The statement hits Amelia hard. "At all?" Her eyes go wide. This doesn't sound like her Damon at all. Stefan shakes his head. "Well," Amelia turns around to face Bonnie and Elena again. "I would love to get to know you, but I think—"

"You should make sure Damon's alright," Elena interrupts. Amelia finds it most peculiar – even more than finding out Bonnie is a witch – that Elena shows so much care for Damon. If she's involved with Stefan, she must know Damon and Stefan hardly ever get along.

"You miss his sparkling personality already?" Amelia asks, smiling.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying it, but yes." Elena hugs her arms around her, and nods.

Amelia can't help but snicker.

Without another word she lets go of Stefan's hands, and slowly makes her way upstairs, her heels reduced to dull thuds on the carpeted steps and hallway floor. The upstairs hallway is lined with art, but she doesn't stop to regard any of the paintings.

The door to Damon's room is open when she reaches it, and she peers inside only to find Damon lying on the bed, still as a statue. She walks into the room confidently, her heels now tapping audibly on the wooden floor. Damon catches eye of her coming in through the doorway, and rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the ceiling.

"I know," Amelia starts, and places a hand on one of the bed-frame pillars, her hips making a half roundabout turn before coming to a standstill. "You're wondering: what's a girl like me, doing in a place like this?" She grabs hold of her side ponytail, and twirls some strands of hair around her finger. There's always been a clear line between her and Damon, a precariously thin one, and they've both balanced it in the time they've known each other.

Damon doesn't move a muscle, nor does he look at her.

"You know, you and Stefan have been fighting for the past one hundred and fifty years," Amelia says, walking over to the window, staring out into the garden briefly. "As long as I've known you." She turns around, and looks at Damon. "You've broken each other's trust, you've killed each other's friends. Hell, you have as much reason to hate him as he does you."

Damon doesn't react. Amelia wonders if he's even listening.

"But never _once_ in all those years has Stefan called in my help." Amelia takes off her leather jacket and tosses it on a nearby chair. She turns around again and sits down on the bed, her back now facing Damon.

Damon can't help but dare a glance at her. The tank top she's wearing closes at the back in three strings of fabric, revealing the tattoo on her back in full. It runs from her right shoulder all the way down to the small of her back. He's always found it puzzling, simply because he doesn't know in what time period to place it, and she had to have gotten it before she turned. He's often wondered just how old she is.

Amelia leans back on her arms, and glances at Damon over her shoulder. He's already back to staring at the ceiling. "Which means this is bad," Amelia adds.

Damon closes his eyes, and groans in complaint.

"Don't worry. I will say no more." Amelia smiles to herself. She slides back on the bed, inching closer to Damon. He finds the scent of her enchanting. "I was just basking in the fact that you boys need my help." She lies down, her head coming to rest on Damon's legs, just above his knees. "Now I'm just going to lie here with you, and not talk." Amelia closes her eyes and remains there, in silence.

Downstairs, Stefan has listened in on Amelia and Damon's one-way conversation, until the whole house goes quiet, safe for Bonnie's and Elena's breathing. He never wanted to be forced to do this, but he hadn't been getting anywhere with Damon. As much as Damon has caused him grief for the better part of the past two centuries, this behaviour was something new. And he doesn't like it.

"What is she doing?" Elena asks, while Stefan sits down next to her on the sofa.

"She's just being there for him." Stefan puts his arm around Elena's shoulder, and meets with her questioning stare seconds later. Elena is here for Damon as well, because some part of her – that Damon neither deserves nor understands – does care for him. "Amelia can reach him in a way few others can," Stefan explains.

"Why?" Elena asks, confused.

"Because she created him," Stefan answers, and doesn't take his eyes off Elena.

Elena stares back over her shoulder, up at the staircase leading to the first floor, and frowns. She'd always assumed it was Katherine who had turned Damon, but this certainly explains why Stefan thinks Amelia might be able to help. Does this mean this is the same woman that turned Stefan?

* * *

Elena's eyes don't leave Amelia when she comes down the stairs the next morning. There's something in the way she moves that exudes grace, and perhaps some hint about her age. Physically she looks about twenty-five, maybe a little younger. For a vampire – just like Damon and Stefan – she's dressed extremely modern; tight fitted jeans, asymmetric black jersey top, and boots that look like they cost more than Elena's entire wardrobe.

"Nothing?" Elena asks when Amelia finds her way into the kitchen. There's a long silver necklace dangling from her neck, finished by a silver heart, gemmed with a single little amethyst stone. Two rings adorn her left hand, one with a turquoise stone—probably the same lapis lazuli gem that was in Stefan's ring, and a full sterling silver one.

Elena dislikes how Stefan's eyes light up in a way unfamiliar to her when Amelia walks in, nor does she like Amelia looking at Stefan like she sees into his very soul. But Elena doubts she can hold that against her; Amelia and Stefan go back more than a century.

"Nothing," Amelia echoes. "I hate seeing him like this." She doesn't entirely mean that, she's just not used to seeing Damon like this. They last saw each other some half century ago in New York, staring at each other from across the room at some beatnik party. "I always figured that if someone broke his heart, you'd call me to stop him from killing the entire town," she tells Stefan, who snickers. "I never expected him to go catatonic."

"Sounds like you know him very well," Elena says, and slides Amelia's cup of coffee towards her over the cooking island between them. More and more she understands why Stefan called Amelia in for help; even after being separated from them for so long, Amelia seems to move around Stefan and Damon like they're her closest family.

"Well, there's a lot of me in him," Amelia says softly. Elena doesn't see it, simply because she doesn't know Amelia that well yet, and there is a hardness in her features Elena imagines only comes with experience. Something Damon will have a hard time achieving. Ever.

"Like mother, like son," Stefan says, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Oh, don't call me that." Amelia stares at him hard, her eyes narrowing in warning. "I'm _old_," she admits, "but don't call me that." She doesn't like the term anymore, not since her children had grown older than her and died. Fortunately the only one to ever call her _mom_ now is Stefan, who only ever uses it to joke around, and occasionally Damon to rattle her.

"How old _are_ you?" Elena asks. Amelia speaks with an accent she can't quite place. It sounds British but mixed with some Western European accent she'd have problems placing even if she knew how to distinguish between them.

"A lady never tells." Amelia shrugs and folds her hands around her cup of coffee tightly. She's learned to keep some of her secrets close to her heart, her age is one of them. "I've got to say, Elena, you surprise me. I haven't seen many humans this comfortable around vampires in a long time."

"Yeah, well," Elena shrugs. "They didn't really give me much choice." She glances at Stefan from the corner of her eye and throws him a coy little smile. Stefan smiles at her slyly. Amelia is left to staring at the both of them over the edges of the coffee mug now hovering near her lips.

"Stefan, what have you done to this young lady?" Amelia's eyes narrow conspicuously. "Not taken her virtue, I hope?" Amelia raises an eyebrow in question. Elena bites her lip and looks at Stefan, slightly panicking. What is she supposed to answer to that? Amelia laughs loudly at the sight of Elena's distress. "Don't worry, I'm only kidding. I may be old, but I'm not a prude."

Elena feigns a sigh of relief, even though part of her is truly relieved; speaking to Amelia feels like talking to Damon and Stefan's mother, and she feels as if she's supposed to make some kind of impression. A better one than Katherine at that.

The microwave suddenly bleeps, ending the comfortable silence that had fallen over the house again. Elena had to admit, without Damon running amuck, this place was heavenly. Stefan takes the steaming cup out of the microwave and hands it to Amelia; the heat of the mug doesn't seem to bother her when it touches her skin. "Do you think he'll—" Elena starts, but she's not sure how to refer to the thick red liquid in the cup without feeling awkward all over again.

"I suppose I could just force it down his throat, being stronger than him and all that," Amelia jokes, but the smile she'd intended to form on her lips fails her, just as it does Stefan and Elena. If Damon insists on not eating, she'll have to force him one way or the other. She won't let him die.

Amelia takes her time ascending the stairs this time. She can hear Elena and Stefan mumbling to each other in the kitchen, but she leaves them their privacy. When she gets to Damon's room, she leans against the doorpost and just regards him for a moment. His complexion has turned sickly and pale, but his position on the bed remains unchanged. Amelia never thought it would happen, feeling this pain for Damon, _over_ Damon, even though he's the one she's always worried about. "Don't you just love the smell of fresh blood in the morning?" she jokes, because Damon has always been able to appreciate her sense of humour. This time around however, Damon doesn't react in the slightest.

"Oh come on, pet," Amelia sighs and walks over to the bed. She sits down by Damon's side, placing the hot steaming cup of blood on the dresser. "Work with me here. I'm only trying to help you. If you keep at this, you won't even be able to stand by yourself." She stares at Damon, unrelenting, but he appears to – once again – not be listening.

And then something inside her snaps. She doesn't have to stand for this, not being the one who turned Damon, and the one and only vampire he's ever been able to reach out to for help. She hates the ideas that Katherine had put in his head, but she couldn't help that. This self-loathing self-pitying spell he had going on now was within her power to fix.

She pulls herself further onto the bed and swings one of her legs over Damon, straddling his lap tightly, giving him no room to move even if he'd still wanted to. "I _will_ get you out of this bed." Amelia points a finger, looking at him strongly, the only way she knows how to with Damon. If playing nice won't get her anywhere, then maybe this'll do the trick. "Even if I have to drag you out by your ears."

Damon feels Amelia's eyes burning holes in him, the weight of her on top of him shaking him from mindless thought and memories he should really put behind him. He sighs and gives up, knowing that Amelia could probably keep this up for all eternity. "Don't you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?" he looks at Amelia, the corners of her mouth turning up just the way he remembers.

"You would think," Amelia says, wriggling on top of him. It does nothing to steady his concentration. He imagines she knows that. "But no," Amelia concludes, biting down on her bottom lip as she stares down at him again. Her long bangs have fallen over one of her eyes.

"Why are you here?" Damon asks, because there's something he wants her to say. Something he desperately needs her to tell him over and over again. She hardly ever admits it to his face, but he likes to hear her say it.

"I told you." Amelia shrugs, her index finger making circles over his chest.

"Stefan called you." Damon rolls his eyes and leans up on his arms. "I don't see the problem here. I'm not making trouble. I'm not killing anyone." He would think that sat just fine with Stefan.

"No, you're just killing yourself."

"Is that so bad? I mean, no one would miss m—"

Amelia pokes his chest hard before he's finished speaking. It'll probably leave a bruise until he's fed properly. Amelia's reflexes have always been better than his. "I would miss you," she says, mock-pouting. Damon raises an eyebrow and stares at her in question. "What can I say? You keep me young, my love." But she can immediately tell that the answer doesn't satisfy Damon at all.

She gets off him in one smooth movement and lies down next to him, head propped up on one arm. "You keep me alive," she says, and sees something in Damon's blue eyes changing. It's something unique to Damon and she's never found the proper words to describe it, but it's so honest and so true that it instantly grounds her in the moment. "Thought I'd return the favour. _Drink_." She commands and points towards the cup on the dresser.

"Thanks," Damon says, and grins crookedly. He sits up on the bed uneasily, but manages to grab hold of the cup and chuck down a few gulps of blood. "_Mom_," he adds, glancing back over his shoulder.

Amelia snatches the pillow from under her head, and hits him with it.

* * *

**(1864)**

When she arrives in Mystic Falls, the church is already burning. A large crowd has gathered around it, watches in fascination, a lust for destruction in their hearts and hatred in their souls for those they call monsters. Who are the real monsters now? Amelia figures the vampires inside have already perished, because she can't hear any of them screaming. It's one horrible way to die, by flame, but an efficient way to rid a town of all the vampires at once.

But she's too late.

She wonders briefly if she could wander into the crowd and be recognised as a vampire as well; maybe they'd let her burn still, but just then someone's pleas break through the night sky like a beacon. She turns towards the sound, her trained eyes picking up on three figures through the trees, about half a mile away.

"Father, please!" Stefan cries, and stands between his father and his brother. He'd feared it would come to this sooner or later, that his father would confront them about their love for Katherine, that Damon wouldn't stand down even when their father threatened them with a gun. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do, son," Giuseppe Salvatore says, his arm trembling with adrenaline. He looks at his younger son. "I told you this would happen. If you sleep with the devil, you lose your soul."

Ten feet away, Amelia halts in her tracks abruptly, the dark forest disguising her presence. Did she just hear that right? Did these boys sleep with a vampire? And they were to die because of it?

"Of course. Yes." Stefan nods, hearing his father's words, but their meaning doesn't sink in. All he cares about is Damon and him walking away from this place alive. "Just please, father, put down the pistol."

"Renounce her, son," Giuseppe tells Damon, who had come here too late. By the time he arrived with his own pistol the church was already burning. He hadn't been able to save Katherine. And when his father had caught sight of him, he'd stopped him right there. He hadn't had the time to draw his gun.

"No," Damon shakes his head. "Never."

"Damon, please, he'll kill you." Stefan turns towards his brother and pleads. "Renounce her," he stresses. If that's all it takes to stop his father from killing his own sons, then Damon should listen. But when has he ever listened to anything Stefan has said involving Katherine? His brother is blinded, but he knows the same goes for him.

"Why don't _you_ renounce her then?" Damon says, eyes growing darker. "I love her, and that will never change."

"Then you leave me no choice," Giuseppe Salvatore says, and levels his shooting arm with the ground.

Amelia acts on instinct. "No!" she shouts, all three men turning their heads to see where the sound came from.

The distraction is all Stefan needs to overpower his father. He takes hold of his father's gun, the force of the struggle sending it back against his father's head, knocking him out in the process. Stefan picks up the gun, and suddenly feels his brother's hand on his shoulder.

They both stare down at their father's unconscious body, until Damon takes a step closer, taking out his own pistol, pointing it at their father. "Damon, no," Stefan protests, looking at his brother urgently.

"He was going to kill us both, Stefan," Damon says. "He killed Katherine." Damon looks at Stefan in anguish. _She's gone_, he thinks, Katherine, the love of his life, _gone forever_. Stefan can find little to argue with. "You really think he deserves to live?"

Stefan looks down at his father again, but shakes his head. "That's not for us to decide," Stefan pleads. He looks at his brother, whose gun is still aimed at their father. "Damon, give me the gun," Stefan says, but when Damon cocks his handgun, he goes to stand between his father and his brother, again, only now he's protecting his father. "You won't harm him," Stefan says, taking aim at his brother.

"You're still defending him!" Damon shouts suddenly, taking a few steps back in anger. "After everything he's done!" But Stefan holds strong, and soon sees his brother seemingly giving up. Damon slumps his shoulders, dropping his arms by his side, and stares down at the ground.

"You're no better than him," Damon adds. He raises his head and arm without warning.

The gunshots ripple through the landscape like thunder, echoing in Amelia's chest as if it's her heart come back to life.

By the time she reaches the two young men laying a few feet apart in the grass, the younger one's heart has already stopped beating. When she looks at him she notices a fresh bite mark in his neck, and she can tell there's vampire blood coursing through his veins. The bite will heal. Soon, he will be like her.

She glances at his brother, heart barely beating, and her veins burn at the smell of his blood. He's the older of the two, and there's something about him that stirs a feeling deep inside of her.

She looks from one human to the other, and at the father she has just knocked unconscious again. They die for a woman, a vampire woman they both love. One is turning, and the other is dying right here in these woods. Brothers, bound by blood and loyalty. She decides right there to turn the other one as well.

The full moon is beaming bright over them, the paintbrush-like comet shining down on a world that has become particularly darker tonight. Amelia sits down on her knees next to the still human man in the grass, leans in, and sinks her fangs into his neck.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	2. Stranger In Town

**author's notes:** update time! this one wrote itself out sooner than i thought it would, and i had an absolute blast writing it. thanks so much for all your kind words and comments on the last chapter. i hope you enjoy the new one and i hope it's not too confusing.

**characters:** Sheriff Forbes, Amelia (OC), Stefan/Elena, Damon, Caroline, mention of Matt, Jenna, Alaric

**setting:** AU from 1x14_ - Fool Me Once_ onward

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**;;

**chapter two**

* * *

The scene is a ghastly dark one. A full moon is set starkly against a black sky completely devoid of stars, bathing everything in a strange pale light. The body of a young woman lies torn open by the side of the road, discarded there as if garbage. There are deep bite marks dripping with coagulating blood on her neck, her stomach and her upper leg. Her eyes are open, staring out into infinity in white-hot fear.

Sheriff Forbes crouches down by the body, a handkerchief covering her mouth and nose to ward off the smell, and looks down at the dead woman in front of her. The girl looks like she's been gnawed at by animals, but the sheriff knows better. It's vampires that did this. It's demons that did this. Such a shame. Such an outrage. The Founder's Council thought they'd dealt with this.

"Sheriff! Over here!" one of her deputies shouts. She gets up and meets him a few yards further, deeper into the woods. He's staring down at the ground. There's a dark-stained pool of blood colouring the leaves when his flashlight illuminates the scene, the rest of it soaked into the wet soil. "Looks like we've got another one." His flashlight follows a sweeping pattern that leads into the woods.

"They took a body with them?" the sheriff asks, brow set in a deep frown. Why on earth would vampires take a human with them? As far as she knows that's never happened before. She fears what this could mean, she fears what the multiple bite marks on the body could mean. "Find out who it is," the sheriff orders, "and who she is," she points back at the body, and retraces her steps back to her car. She's suddenly hit by the strange urge to call her daughter, just to know where she is.

"And uhm, be on the look-out for anybody new in town," she adds.

* * *

"So basically," Amelia tells Elena, coming to a standstill by a high table lining one of the walls at the Mystic Grill bar. "I'm the reason you're in this whole vampire mess." Stefan and Elena join her on the other side of the table, standing close together in the crowded bar. Amelia knows neither Stefan nor Damon blame her for turning him, but sometimes she blames herself.

"It's all your fault," Stefan nods, taking a sip from his coffee. He doesn't mean what he says; he's never wished Amelia hadn't turned Damon, not even in his – or his brother's – darkest hours. Across the room, he can see Damon ordering drinks at the bar.

Elena slaps Stefan's shoulder lovingly. "Don't say that," she says, and looks at Amelia. She can't believe they're all out of the house. Elena can't help but wonder what sort of magic Amelia has worked on Damon. He seemed completely himself again, personality and all. It must have been that woman's touch, or something like it. "You're the reason Stefan and I met." Elena hooks her arm in Stefan's.

"Elena, you're too sweet." Even though she's never met Katherine, Amelia knows she has nothing on Elena. Stefan and her seem perfect for each other. She's never been happier for him; she'd always feared he would never give love a chance again. Apparently she was mistaken.

The door to the bar opens; it passes by unnoticed to most people there, because they're all wrapped up in the intricacies of their own lives, but Amelia picks up every scent and every sound that gets added to the mix. When she glances towards the door over Stefan's shoulder, it's a female officer in uniform whose eyes she meets. "_419 off the highway, code V. All officers be on the look-out for strangers in town,_" sounds from the walkie-talkie attached to her shoulder.

"Uh-oh," Amelia says, mostly to herself, but averts her eyes when she sees the sheriff make her way towards their table. She runs a hand through her hair casually, turning her head. "_Damon_, _get over here_," she calls, so softly that no human could have heard it, but Damon catches it instantly. Amelia has this way of getting his attention.

"Excuse me," the sheriff says when she reaches the table. The redhead woman at the table smiles at her softly, but it doesn't earn her one back. Ever since that blonde vampire Damon staked to save her life she hasn't trusted any new faces, known or unknown by any of the people in Mystic Falls.

"Is there something wrong, Sheriff Forbes?" Stefan asks, the same controlled voice he always manages. He doesn't like the look he finds in the sheriff's eyes, she's got her guard up, and looks at Amelia like she's a suspect in a crime.

"Who's your friend?" Sheriff Forbes asks sturdily.

Amelia's eyes widen in mock-question, because she knows exactly what the sheriff is getting at. There's been another attack in town, and she trusts no new face. She can't blame the sheriff for being vigilant, but she's relieved to feel Damon approaching.

"And here we are," Damon interrupts the conversation before anyone can answer the sheriff's question. He puts two beers on the table that he'd snatched randomly off the bar; he hadn't had the time to wait for their own drinks. "Sheriff," he nods briefly, and throws an arm around Amelia, pulling her closer to him.

"Beer?" Amelia asks, and stares at the two tall glasses on the table, her eyes wide in question. "I don't do beer. You know it's not good for my skin." She quirks her mouth, and twirls her hair around her fingers. She looks at Damon from under her brow, and pouts. Damon smiles at her; he does like this game. They've played it enough times before.

"Got it. _Beer bad_," Damon says. Amelia has all the trouble in the world to keep a straight face. Damon is enjoying this far too much. "How about some fries instead?" he asks seriously, and Amelia only smiles in answer. "You guys want anything?" Damon finally looks at Stefan and Elena.

Elena is at a total loss for words. She knows that it's probably all an act, but it's so difficult to see where it starts and where it ends; it's seamlessly construed. Amelia just went from being an ages-old vampire, to a college co-ed who only cares about skin products. "We could do with some fries too." Stefan nods, and looks at Elena in question, whose jaw has gone slack in surprise.

She frowns, looks at Stefan, then back at Damon, and nods. "Yeah, fries."

Damon moves away from the table again, towards the bar. Amelia grabs his hand. "Hang on, baby, I'll help you," she says, and follows him to the bar like a faithful puppy. Game, set and match.

Sheriff Forbes is left staring after them. Kids these days, she thinks, always in a hurry. She turns to Stefan for answers. "Amelia is visiting from out of town," Stefan explains. "Damon and her are— complicated." His eyes narrow in thought, because he really thinks there should be a better word for what exactly Damon and Amelia are. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

At the bar, Amelia and Damon hear Sheriff Forbes answering "_No, just curious_," before leaving Elena and Stefan alone.

"There's been more attacks," Amelia says, voice low enough not to be picked up by any curious bystanders, and leans her body up against the bar, one arm resting on top, mirroring Damon's posture in front of her.

"Two burgers with fries, and two scotches," Damon orders their drinks and food, picking at a little bowl of peanuts on top of the bar. His stomach growls and his veins hunger for something else entirely. He needs some human blood and he needs it now. It's only then that Amelia's words sink in. "How do you—?" he asks.

Amelia circles her index finger around in the air. "Police scanners," she answers, and grabs some peanuts herself. "For a town this small, it attracts _way_ too many vampires." She can understand why Stefan and Damon come back here every few decades, but why would other vampires take the risk of settling down here? "It's not normal." Back in her own hunting days, when the hunt still held some fun for her, she swept through these small towns quickly, afraid to be detected. It's the larger ones that hold her preference. For her kind, anonymity tends to be key.

"For a town this small, it knows _entirely_ too much about us," Damon corrects, and looks at Amelia. She's wearing an extremely enticing outfit tonight. Her dark red hair – that's a shade of the likes he hasn't seen anywhere else– is loosened in long wavy streaks, covering up that part of her tattoo that peeks from the top at the back, but her cleavage leaves little to the imagination. "And about killing us." His eyes find hers again.

"She has a thing for you, you know," Amelia says. Damon frowns. "The sheriff." Damon snorts and shakes his head. "It's true. Probably because you so gallantly saved her from that vampire." Amelia watches how the sheriff makes her way from one side of the bar to the other. "I must say, I don't approve of you killing your brother's friends, but you sure got her wrapped neatly around your finger."

Damon follows Amelia's gaze across the room, and frowns again, a pained expression colouring his features. That is one mental image he could have done without. "Eww," comes his short reply, before he turns towards the bar again. "Why can't we go out and hunt something?" he sighs, the mere thought setting his veins ablaze. "Please?" he pouts down at Amelia.

Amelia stares at him, a sly smile sliding across her lips slowly. Damon finds few more words to say when Amelia closes the short distance between them, her hips swaying seductively. She settles her body against his, one hand moving to his face, the other around to his back. Her sylvan scent penetrates through him and envelops him at the same time, a thick haze forming around him as the rest of the room dulls into white noise.

Amelia kisses him softly on the lips, once, hand sliding up in his hair. She hardly ever uses her compulsion on vampires, simply because some thrill of the chase still appeals to her. But right now keeping a low profile is far more important than stilling Damon's hunger for human blood. "_Dance with me_," she whispers, the compulsion sinking in somewhere deep near Damon's heart. It pulls at him strong and hard, beckoning him towards the dance floor.

It's then that Stefan swoops in and collects their orders.

"Have Amelia and Damon ever—" Elena asks once Stefan returns from the bar. Amelia had pulled Damon to the dance floor, and right now they seemed completely preoccupied by each other. Or each other's body, depending on one's angle.

"I don't know," Stefan answers, and follows Elena's gaze towards the dance floor. Admittedly, the way they were acting around each other at this very moment left little else to the imagination. Damon's hands are all over Amelia's body. But he knows it isn't always like that between the two of them. Right now, they're just acting. "They've always had a— _bond_." He frowns, once again finding the word falling short of properly describing Damon and Amelia.

"Must be some bond," Elena deadpans, and averts her gaze just in time to miss Damon's tongue drawing a wet path down Amelia's neck. "Have _you_ and Amelia ever—" Elena's voice trails off. The words are out before she has a chance to mould them into another question. Does she really want to know the answer?

"No," Stefan shakes his head, and he's never once considered it either. He supposes he can't blame Elena for asking, but she must know she's the only one for him.

"Who's she?" Caroline's voice sounds from behind them suddenly, and they both turn towards her. Caroline is eyeing the happy couple on the dance floor.

"Damon's college sweetheart," Elena says, the lie out of her mouth so easily that she's surprised to hear it. Maybe she's finally getting the hang of all this secrecy.

"Damon went to college?" Caroline frowns to herself. "Scratch that, I don't want to know. Have you guys seen Matt?" her eyes go wide, and a smile appears on her lips. She only really wants to see Matt.

"Behind the bar," Stefan answers. Caroline looks towards the bar, her boyfriend barely visible through the people crowding it. She's off without a word. "That doesn't bother you?" Stefan asks, returning his attention to Elena. "Matt and Caroline?" He knows that once upon a time, before he'd showed up, Matt and Elena were pretty close.

"Why would it?" Elena shrugs, picking at her basket of fries. She looks towards the bar, seeing Caroline lean across it to reach for Matt's lips. "He's happy, and she seems to really care about him. Besides," she adds, smiling broadly, "I have you now." Her eyes once again catch sight of Amelia and Damon. Stefan might have told her he and Amelia never slept together, but the ease with which they act around each other pointed at a deeper relationship. "That doesn't bother you?" Elena asks. "Damon and Amelia?"

Stefan looks at them once, and smiles to himself before returning his unconditional attention to Elena. "Not at all," he says. "Don't get me wrong. I love her." The admission comes as certain as his love for Elena. "She was there for us from the start, and taught me everything I know about being a vampire. More importantly, she accepted my choices." Something his brother never did. "But I've never seen her as anything more than a mentor."

#

Alaric and her are in the middle of a very interesting conversation about what the best Van Damme movie is when Jenna pushes the door to the bar open. The heat of the crowd hits her belatedly; she didn't know there was anything going on at the bar tonight. "Oh dear," Jenna says, and turns back to Alaric, half-way through the door already. "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

"Nonsense," Alaric shakes his head. He immediately catches eye of Damon and an unidentified woman on the dance floor. The thought of this becoming Damon's next kill grounds him immediately. He's not going anywhere. "Look, there's Elena and Stefan." He points towards the right of the room. "Let's go say hi, and then we'll see."

He follows Jenna towards her niece and Stefan. "Hiya kids!" Jenna exclaims, and joins Stefan and Elena at their table. "Having fun? Or are you leaving that up to Damon?" She nods her head towards the dance floor, Damon and Amelia pushing their way through the crowd back towards the table.

When they reach the table, Alaric notices immediately that Amelia doesn't need to catch her breath.

"Amelia, this is my Aunt Jenna, and my history teacher Mr Saltzman," Elena introduces them.

"Am I meeting the whole town tonight?" Amelia laughs, and shakes Jenna's and Alaric's hand. "It's nice to meet you," she adds, before Damon wraps his arms around her from behind, holding her close to him. He buries his nose in her hair.

"That's a very interesting necklace you're wearing," Alaric says, trying to disregard the way Damon is all over Amelia. If she's a vampire like him, this might be someone Damon actually cares about. He notices the heavy silver pendant finishing Amelia's necklace in his attempt to seem casual. He has some experience in placing these things in the right time period. "Seventeenth century?" he guesses.

Both Elena and Stefan look at Amelia, and Damon's curiosity is peeked as well.

"Give or take," Amelia smiles softly, not mentioning to anyone that it is in fact several centuries older than that. It wasn't originally meant to be a pendant at all; she had that feature added two hundred years ago by a very nice jewellery salesman. Her husband had given it to her as a wedding gift; it was the brooch that had held together her wedding garment. "It's a family heirloom."

Alaric nods, but doesn't take his eyes off her for long moments. _He knows_, Amelia thinks, because he's looking at her too casually, too self-assured and yet astoundingly cautious. She'll have to ask Stefan or Damon about it sometime.

"We'll leave you kids to your fun," Jenna cuts through the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over the table. She doesn't know why, but something tells her that Alaric doesn't like Stefan or Damon very much, "and your _fries_." Jenna looks down at the food on the table, and as if the words pushed some kind of button, Damon lets go of Amelia, and attacks his burger.

"So are there more vampires in town?" Elena asks after her aunt and Alaric have left their table. She shivers involuntarily at the thought of more vampires, more fear, more danger. Stefan pulls her closer to him, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Well, I think we can safely say it wasn't me this time," Damon says between bites, and still manages to swallow down his scotch too.

"Should we—" Elena starts. She'll be the last person to argue that they should become vigilantes and protect the town, but who else knows how to properly spot a vampire? Something tells her with Amelia here now, that task would become considerably easier.

"We?" Damon asks, grabbing Amelia's scotch as well. "Elena, in this context, there is no _we_, as in you and us." Amelia and Stefan look at him curiously. Damon's definitely back. "There's just us, and it's none of our business," he shrugs.

"Actually, I would rather think it is," Amelia intercedes, more to aggravate Damon than anything else. "Elena could get hurt, or someone she cares about. It's as much her town as it is yours."

"Yeah, but..." Damon says, a burp getting in the way of his argument.

"_Tell_ the sheriff you have more vervain," Amelia says, the command laced in her voice almost imperceptible. Stefan had filled her in earlier about Damon's relations with the sheriff, which were most convenient if you were the very thing she was hunting. "We should find out what we can."

"Sure thing, _Veronica Mars_." Damon straightens his shoulders. "Since when did you start caring?" He's known Amelia long enough to know that most of her enthusiasm for the hunt has wavered, but he's never known her to go out of her way to kill other vampires either, or to help out humans.

Amelia has to admit Damon makes a valid point. Once upon a time she got her blood the same way Damon gets his now. Still, this town's too small for the deaths to pass by as unnoticed as in big metropolitan cities. "Since your brother started dating Elena," Amelia answers, and both Stefan and Elena look at her. "It wouldn't be very motherly of me if I just discarded the problem at hand." Since she's here, she might as well help out.

* * *

"Can't we just go out for _one_ bite?" Damon complains like a six-year old when Amelia doesn't release his hand. She's almost forced to _drag_ Damon back into the house. Amelia knows he could have forced her already, but Damon realises all too well he's still weak, and she's stronger than him either way. Maybe he's avoiding any unnecessary pain.

In the distance, Stefan opens the door to the house, Elena following him inside. Damon pulls at Amelia's arm one time, forcing her to stop and look at him. "One bite," he begs, blue eyes crazy with hunger, and he closes the distance between their bodies again. "Stefan doesn't even need to know," he whispers.

Amelia sighs, but Damon's theatrics amuse her. "I have blood in my bags upstairs."

Damon releases a sigh as well. "Well, you're no fun." He rolls his eyes melodramatically, and saunters towards the house, pulling Amelia along with him. But he's pretty determined to get what he wants. They make it into the house, Damon slamming the door shut with Amelia's body pinned between his and the wood, groin settling against hers.

"This sure puts things in a new perspective," Amelia teases, wriggling her hips against Damon's. She knows how to play this game too. "You do know this won't convince me to take you out, right?" she asks, while Damon sweeps her hair aside.

"I'm counting on it," Damon breaths, and his eyes go black suddenly, his fangs sliding out, the veins around his eyes darkening. He leans in and caresses the tip of his nose down Amelia's neck, ready to sink his teeth in her skin. But he feels weaker than he should.

"Amelia?" Elena's voice trembles through the house. She's halfway down the stairs when she halts in her tracks; it's only then that she sees the position Amelia and Damon are in. She'd apologize, but Damon moves away from Amelia as soon as she speaks, almost as if her intrusion gives him the excuse to move. "Do vampires get sick?" Elena asks carefully.

"No," Amelia laughs, and takes a few steps closer to the staircase. When she sees the look of fright on Elena's face she feels her smile faltering. "Why, what's wrong?" she frowns.

"Stefan doesn't look so hot," Elena says, brushing her hair back behind her ears. "And he says he feels queasy."

Amelia frowns to herself. Is this a joke? Is Stefan playing her? It's not exactly Stefan's style, and Elena's concern seems genuine. She runs upstairs, Elena following her back inside the room. Stefan is sitting up on his bed, face buried in his hands. Amelia walks over to him, Stefan raises his head, and Amelia places a hand on his forehead. She's instantly aware that something's wrong. "Oh God, you're burning up," she says, going to her knees in front of him. "Stefan, you're shaking." It's almost as if he has a fever. But things like this aren't possible. Not for them. "What happened?" Amelia looks up at Elena.

"I don't know," Elena shakes her head. Amelia's sudden fearful eyes do nothing to steady her nerves. "One minute he's fine, and the next he's on the floor."

Stefan groans loudly, the sound of Amelia's and Elena's voice sending waves of pain to his head. It's only aggravated by the fact that it's the first time in a hundred and forty-five years he's actually experienced a headache.

Amelia's hand moves to Stefan's shoulder; it's when Stefan shifts slightly that she notices something on his skin. "How long has he had this rash?" she asks, pulling Stefan's shirt out of the way to reveal the irritated skin breaking out across his collarbone.

"Rash?" Elena frowns and comes closer to take a look. "That wasn't there before." She shakes her head, and sits down by Stefan's side. The thought that whatever Stefan has could be contagious only touches her mind briefly; she's much too worried to think about anything else.

Suddenly, there's a thud in the hallway, as if something hitting the floor. "Damon?" Amelia calls out, but is on her feet without waiting for an answer. "Damon!" she calls out when she sees him lying passed out on the hallway floor. She kneels down beside him and turns him over, but he's unconscious. "Damon," she shakes him softly, but Damon gives no reaction. Something catches her eye when it peeks from Damon's shirt. She moves the fabric aside to get a closer look. "Oh my God," she exclaims.

Right underneath her fingertips there's a rash on Damon's skin.

The same one she just found on Stefan.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	3. Drink Me In

**author's notes:** aand the story continues. thanks so much to everyone reading/loving/leaving me comments. i hope everyone enjoys the new chapter, even though the poor Salvatore brothers are suffering.

**characters:** Elena, Jeremy, Amelia, Joshua (OC), Damon, Stefan, Sheriff Forbes

**setting:** AU from 1x14_ - Fool Me Once_ onward

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**;;

**chapter three**

* * *

It's early evening when Elena gets home. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel, exhaustion rippling through her body when she finally gives herself the time to feel it. She'd been taking care of Stefan all day, trying to cool him down, and while Amelia was calling all her contacts, she'd done the same thing for Damon. She never thought she'd be put in that position.

The worst thing about it all is that she can't talk to her friends at all. Sure, Bonnie knows exactly what Damon and Stefan are, but she'd much rather stay away from them than take care of them while they're sick. And ever since her grandmother died performing a spell to get Katherine back for Damon, Bonnie's been less than willing to be around him. Sick or otherwise.

Elena hasn't once paused to think about what this mysterious illness could mean for her. She doesn't think about how Stefan could die if they don't find out what's wrong with him in time. They can't very well go to a doctor; what would they tell him? That her vampire boyfriend has flu-like symptoms and a mystery rash on his skin?

But what if he dies? What if Damon dies? She shakes her head strongly, hoping to shake off any dark thoughts that will distract her from her current mission. Her brother stops her on the landing when he catches sight of her coming up the stairs. "Elena? Where have you been?" Jeremy asks. "Aunt Jenna's been worried sick." In truth, he'd been worried as well. After what happened at the old Fell's Church – even though he's not really sure of what exactly did happen – he's not sure if Stefan or Damon are in any way to be trusted anymore.

"I was out with Stefan last night," Elena says, but nothing more. She walks into her room and grabs an overnight bag. It should do for now. If helping Stefan out takes longer she'll come back some other time for more stuff.

"What are you doing?" Jeremy is in her door suddenly.

"Grabbing some clothes," she states the obvious, but doesn't stop packing. She takes what she needs from the bathroom, but when she makes it into her room again, her brother is staring at her for more answers. "Stefan's sick, I need to be there for him," she explains, and walks over to her closet.

Jeremy crosses his arms over his chest. "And where's it written that you have to take care of him?"

"Because I'm his girlfriend, and that's what good girlfriends do." She briefly wonders how many girlfriends have been there by their boyfriends deathbeds. The more she thinks about it, the more she realises how she's not cut out for this. She loves Stefan more than anything, but she's lost so much already. Stefan can't die on her too. "Plus, Damon's out too," she says, hoping it will convince her brother to leave her be.

"They probably caught it from Damon's new _lady_ _friend_," Jeremy jokes. "Did you see how they were all over each other at the Grill?" It'd been rather hard to miss the two of them together.

"Mind out of the gutter, brother." Elena shakes her head, and makes a mental note to grab some food from the kitchen as well. A house with vampires isn't all that stacked with snacks. "I'll call in later," she tells her brother. "Be a good boy," she adds, and ruffles through his hair. She hopes she doesn't convey the gravity of the situation she's in; Jeremy can be spared any unnecessary pain.

"Yeah yeah." Jeremy moves away from his sister's assault, and stares after her as she descends the stairs. There's something in her eyes that tells him something is up, but he can't put his finger on it. It's the same look she had the weeks after their parents' car accident; he doesn't like seeing it again at all.

* * *

Amelia's on the phone when she hears Elena coming through the front door again. She ignores Elena's greeting, but something tells her she doesn't particularly mind. Elena wants to get to the bottom of this as much as she does.

"You're sure?" Amelia asks, fingers making circles at her temple. She's never felt more tired in her life, but she's never needed to be busy more than now. She needs to figure out what's wrong with Stefan and Damon before treating herself to any form of rest.

"I am," the man on the other end of the line – _Joshua_ – answers. Amelia releases a shuddery breath, and closes her eyes, feeling defeat wash all over her. It's been a long time since she's felt this powerless. "I'm real sorry about this, Mel," Joshua says, concern audible in his voice. "I know what those boys mean to you."

"It's okay. I'm sure you did everything you could." She puts the phone down without exchanging any last minute pleasantries; she's not in the mood for them, and it's not what she needs right now either.

She's spent the better part of the past twenty-four hours calling everyone she knows, calling in favours she never thought she'd cash in on, but she'd managed to reach the best and brightest. Unfortunately no one could give her the answers she needed. No one had ever heard of anything that could get vampires this sick.

"Any news?" Elena's voice sounds from behind her suddenly.

Amelia wishes she had better news. "No," she answers, and turns around. "I'm sorry." For all her years and experience, it seems this is one thing she won't be able to defeat. She hates this feeling, of being unable to do anything to help those most dear to her. She'd felt it a few times in her human life, sparsely in her vampire life, but it hit her hard every time. It tore her in half.

Elena leaves her silently, back upstairs to watch over Stefan.

Amelia knows there's little else left for her to do but go up and take care of Damon.

She reaches Damon's room, but he's no longer in the bed. A frown creases between her eyebrows, until she hears the water in the bathroom running. "Damon?" she asks, and walks to the bathroom. What's he doing? Taking a shower? Part of her refuses to think that he's feeling better, because that's granting herself too much hope in too hopeless a time.

When she walks into the bathroom, Damon is laying in the bathtub, the showerhead raining water down on him. "What in hell are you doing?" she asks.

"I'm so hot," Damon exasperates, his eyes closed. Amelia sighs and walks over to the shower, leaning in to turn off the water; she notices it's ice-cold. "If I wasn't already dead I'd say I was dying," Damon says, his voice raspy.

"Come here," Amelia says, and makes him sit up in the tub. She unbuttons his shirt, and throws it aside once he's struggled out of it. A wave of tears hits her when she sees Damon's rash has only spread further across his collarbone. She's not one to cry in any situation, but this strikes her deep down where her heart should be beating.

She doesn't want to think about what it would mean to lose Damon, or to lose Stefan. She might not have created both of them, but she regards both of them as family. Losing them now would mean going back to a time where she knows she's alone, without family or anywhere to go, no one to take care of, even if Damon and her are something else entirely. A time where she might as well be dead.

Damon groans in complaint when Amelia towels his hair dry, and makes him get out of the bathtub. Minutes later he's in the bed again, and Amelia's tugging off his wet pants. "I'm not really sure I'm in the mood for that right now," Damon mumbles, his face half-buried in the pillows.

Amelia rolls her eyes, and takes off Damon's pants. How he even finds the strength to joke around is beyond her. She makes sure he's under the covers before leaning in. "Don't flatter yourself," she whispers in his ear. Damon only just manages a smile before she pecks him on the cheek.

"If I ever find out who did this to me, I'll drain them," Damon says.

Amelia thinks that if he ever does, she'll probably help.

* * *

The next morning Amelia brings Stefan a cup of blood, not warmed up too hot this time. Elena hadn't said it in so many words, but Amelia could tell she didn't feel comfortable doing this for Stefan, despite her love for him. So she walks into Stefan's room while Elena is in the bathroom getting dressed.

Stefan has all the trouble in the world sitting up, but somehow manages to put his lips to the mug Amelia offers him. He coughs after taking only one sip, sprinkling tiny drops of blood over the white sheets. "Sorry," he chokes out, and moves to lie back, but Amelia puts a hand at the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

"You can rest once this is finished," Amelia pushes. She hates to do this so forcibly, but Stefan needs what strength he can get. Seeing Stefan and Damon like this is one of the most horrible things she's been subjected to in her lifetime, and she's seen quite the horrors.

The voices from the bedroom barely register to Elena. She looks at herself in the mirror, her eyes shining with fresh tears, tears she hasn't allowed Stefan to see. She never thought she'd have to watch him waste away, see him becoming less and less, needing someone to take care of him. He's supposed to do that for her, bring her chicken soup when she has a cold. This is all wrong.

"It seems to be hitting Stefan harder," Elena says once she's out of the bathroom, Amelia on the bed beside Stefan, feeding him the last of the blood. Elena thinks Amelia looks tired, but maybe that's just because she's tired herself. "Why do you think that is?" she asks. Damon and Stefan were both bed-ridden, but Stefan had been out longer, and he looked more sick than his brother.

"Could be because of his diet," Amelia answers, running a hand through her hair as she gets up and gives Elena her spot back on the bed. "Maybe he ingested something more. I'm not sure." She sits down on Stefan's desk.

Elena grabs a washcloth from a bowl of water on the dresser by Stefan's bed, and dabs it across his forehead. Stefan stirs on the bed, but doesn't open his eyes. "Have you ever heard of anything infecting vampires?" Elena asks, feeling tears stinging her eyes again. She'd hoped to keep from crying in front of Amelia, but she can't help herself. Stefan is getting worse by the minute.

"The only substance that hurts us physically is vervain," Amelia answers, casting down her eyes. Part of her wishes she could share in Elena's sorrow, another part of her wants to give her privacy. "But this is a completely different reaction. They're actually— _sick_." And there's absolutely nothing she can do but watch them get worse. She has no idea what this is, and she's seen her fair share of illness. She has no idea what to do.

The doorbell rings.

"It's the sheriff," Amelia says, recognising the woman's scent coming from downstairs. "I'll get it." She gets up and looks at Stefan. He's shaking on the bed, mumbling incomprehensible words to himself. "Try to keep him quiet," she tells Elena, who just nods.

Before descending the steps, she goes and checks on Damon; he's laying face-down on the bed, just like she left him, shaking but asleep. She closes the door to his room carefully, hoping he keeps quiet while she talks to the sheriff.

"Sheriff Forbes," Amelia says when she opens the door. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Damon home?" the sheriff asks. She'd hoped not to see the young woman she'd met at the Grill again, but it seems she's now taken up temporary residence in the Salvatore home. She looks like she's hardly slept at all since last time they spoke.

"He's out of town for the day," Amelia answers, aware that it sounds more than a little suspicious, but she doesn't know what other lie to use. The sheriff doesn't seem to pick up on the lie in any case. "Is there something I can help you with?" Amelia adds.

"No, I'll come back when—" the sheriff takes a half-turn away from the door. She wonders if Amelia is speaking the truth; Elena Gilbert's car is in the driveway, and she doesn't see these two hanging out like best friends just yet. But then, Elena's probably upstairs with Stefan.

"Are you here for the vervain?" Amelia asks, remembering that Damon had told the sheriff about it. At the time it had been a ploy to learn more about the death of the young girl two nights ago. Right now it just seemed inconvenient to have her around. Still, Amelia figures it might get her mind of things. At the word _vervain _the sheriff stares at her curiously. "Damon and I don't have secrets," Amelia says. Not a lie. "Please, come in."

Amelia can tell the other woman is tired when she leads her into the living room. She leaves the room for a few minutes to grab the box with the vervain. "Here you go," Amelia says when she hands the little wooden box over. Sheriff Forbes opens the box. "I put it in the bracelets, and some necklaces. It doesn't stand out so much," Amelia adds.

"I see you got yours too," the sheriff nods towards her silver necklace. The irony of the situation would be laughable if Amelia couldn't hear Stefan and Damon shaking in their beds upstairs.

"I wanted you to know, that if there's anything I can do—" Amelia starts, because she admires the way Damon had weaselled his way into the sheriff's confidence. There's no reason she couldn't do the same. "I just feel like there's all this evil around me, and I'm powerless. There has to be more I can do. This just doesn't seem enough." She points at the box with the vervain.

A glint of victory touches the sheriff's eyes that puzzles Amelia. "Maybe not for long," the sheriff says.

Amelia frowns. "What do you mean?"

"We found a way to poison them." The word hits Amelia like a slap to the face. Poison. Of course. "It's vervain-based," the sheriff explains. "It was invented by Johnathan Gilbert but never used back then. We've put it in the town's water supply."

Amelia feels a fist tightening around her heart, anger grabbing hold of her. She stops breathing, hoping to maintain some kind of control, but it takes her all the strength in the world. "And it kills them?" Amelia asks carefully, trying not to show any emotion.

"It should," the sheriff nods, but frowns. The young woman in front of her seems not too pleased with this news at all, and—can she hear voices coming from upstairs? The sheriff shakes her head—it must be Stefan and Elena. "Way I understand it, it should affect them like the flu affects us."

Amelia's eyes snap up and focus tightly on the sheriff's face. "Does that mean there's a cure?"

The question bellows through the house expectantly, echoing in Damon's and Stefan's ears upstairs, landing back as an unbridgeable distance between Amelia and Sheriff Forbes.

* * *

Elena finds Amelia in the kitchen after she's heard the sheriff's car leave the driveway. She thought Amelia would have found her way back upstairs, but when she reaches the kitchen she realises why Amelia has remained downstairs. She's clutching a hand at the kitchen counter strongly, and she's shaking. Elena is not sure whether she's shaking because she's crying, or because she's angry.

"Amelia?" Elena asks, taking a careful step closer. "Are you alright?"

"There's no cure," Amelia shakes her head, wiping at her face before Elena gets the chance to see her tears. Elena doesn't know what it means. Will Stefan die? Will she have to watch him die? She's not sure she's strong enough for that. "The sheriff laughed about it, thought it was hilarious," Amelia chuckles lightly. "And I can't even blame her for wanting any of us dead."

Elena frowns. "What do you mean?" She carefully places a hand on Amelia's shoulder. The older vampire doesn't scare her anymore, but she doesn't know how to comfort her. She's in complete distress inside, but she can't even being to imagine how Amelia must be feeling.

"I'm old enough to realise my own existence is ridiculous, Elena. We're unnatural," Amelia says, realising all too well that she's not making much sense. "People call us animals or demons and most of us are. But we don't need to kill to feed anymore. Not this day and age." Upstairs, Stefan suddenly cries out in pain. It shakes Amelia from her thoughts instantly. "Listen to me, all self-pity while—" her voice trails off. "Grab a mug," she says to Elena resolutely.

Elena moves to one of the overhead cupboards quickly, and takes what she needs. "What are you going to do?" she asks when she hands Amelia the cup.

"The only thing I can think of doing." Amelia raises an arm, and bites down in her wrist. The first few drops of blood hit the ceramic mug in small pellets. Elena's eyes go wide at the sight of it; what exactly is Amelia planning?

A few minutes later the mug is half-full.

"Take this to Stefan and make sure he drinks it all," she tells Elena.

"You think this will help?" Elena asks, staring down at the cup in her hands. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, even though she's madly curious to know what the meaning of it all is.

"Vampire blood has healing properties," Amelia explains. It's not a cure, but it's the only thing she has left to give. Vervain affects her as well, still, but it doesn't hit her as hard as younger vampires. "Maybe it'll give them the boost they need to fight this thing." And if it doesn't, well, then she'll have to watch those she loves die. Again.

She follows Elena upstairs, but where Elena leaves to ascend the second staircase to Stefan's room, she heads straight to Damon's bedroom. She looks at him for a moment, hearing Elena trying to get Stefan to drink upstairs. All the hope she has left in this world is invested in that cup, and in the blood still running through her veins. It's her last hope.

"Damon," Amelia says softly, and turns Damon over in the bed.

"No," he complains, and keeps his eyes closed. His head is pounding, his body unnaturally hot and sweaty, but Amelia's hand on his forehead comes as momentary reprieve to his suffering. It doesn't last long; his skin warms hers in a matter of seconds.

Next thing he knows a drop of something deliciously alluring touches his lips. It's curious how it appeals to him now that he's this sick, but still his tongue ventures out and licks his lips. Another drop of Amelia's blood trickles down from her wrist, onto Damon's tongue. Part of him wants to protest, because it feels wrong to feed on anything when the rest of his body is still protesting, but his lips close over the wound on Amelia's wrist before he knows it.

He drinks.

Deep.

* * *

Sheriff Forbes leaves the Salvatore mansion with a strange feeling in her gut. Why would Damon have asked her to stop by if he wasn't going to be home? Why was Elena's car in the driveway, and why had she not seen her in the house?

Something tells her Amelia wasn't at all alone in the house, yet she hadn't seen Elena or proof of anyone else's presence. Amelia herself came across as extremely intimidating; she seemed only calm and composed on the outside, but the sheriff couldn't help but wonder what anger lay beneath, right underneath the surface.

Still, Amelia had gotten her more vervain. There was no reason she wasn't to be trusted.

She's only just reached her car again when she gets a call over the radio, telling her that another body had been found. On her drive there her heart rate picks up considerably, and she hopes to God she's not about to find the body of the young girl still missing.

"Some kids found him," the deputy on scene tells her the moment she gets out of her squad car, walking her over to where the body is. When she reaches the scene, her breath catches in her throat. It's not the body of a young girl; what she finds laying in the bushes is the burned body of a vampire, half-covered by branches. "It looks like he tried to shield himself off from the sun, but didn't finish in time."

The sheriff crouches down by the body, her eyes sweeping over the burnt skin. "Or he was buried," she concludes, because there's no reason why a vampire would be this far out during the day; there's no shelter for miles around. It makes more sense that he was dumped here some time during the night. "Which is very disconcerting." If he tried to cover himself up that's all good and well, but if he was buried, that means there are more vampires out there.

"At least we know the poison's working."

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	4. Killing Me Softly

**author's notes:** this took me a while longer, because real life and other stories are crowding my time. i hope you enjoy the new chapter. super-special thanks to everyone loving/commenting/reviewing.

**characters:** Elena, Damon, Amelia (OC), Stefan, Bonnie, Jenna, Alaric, Matt, Mayor Lockwood

**setting:** AU from 1x14_ - Fool Me Once_ onward

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**;;

**chapter four**

* * *

"_Hush_," she whispers in his ear softly, her breath a wave of her scent against his skin. He feels her warm hand as it rests on his cheek, slides down over the two delicate puncture marks in his neck, and comes to rest on his chest, just above where his heart is beating at a very slow pace. He doesn't know where he is, but it doesn't matter, not with her touch on him, with her scent surrounding him; he doesn't even need to see her if he can have this for an eternity.

"Katherine?" a voice says, and he realises belatedly that it's his own. It cuts through the thick silence like a sharpened sword.

Her laugh is infectious and her voice is the way it has always been; it rings true in his eardrums, settling in his chest like a thunderstorm. He'll never grow tired of that sound.

"No, silly," she answers, and settles her body closer up to his. It feels warm. "It's me."

It can't be.

It can't possibly be her. Not here. Not in this bed, not in this period of his lifetime. He's human, yet she's human too. _Yet_...

"Elena," he iterates, not just a voice this time. He opens his eyes slowly, and she's there beside him, clear as day, her long hair thrown back over her shoulders. He wonders why she's here with him, willingly, now, _here_. Part of him wants to ask her, but he knows he shouldn't try to break the solitary silence again. He's content with just lying here. There's little else for him to do but lie and wait.

Damon wakes – again, or for the first time, he's not sure – in another bed; he recognises it as his own this time. He moves his head carefully; he'd noticed before how every little movement hurt him and cost him energy. Strangely, right now, he feels like himself again. His body feels its normal temperature, his muscles don't hurt anymore. And after a few more seconds, he even notices he's hungry.

Something stirs on the bed next to him.

He turns his head fast, only to see Amelia asleep beside him, facing him. He reaches a hand over, and pushes a strand of her hair from her face, brushing it behind her ear carefully. Amelia doesn't seem to notice, and if she does she doesn't respond to it. Damon figures she's probably tired after taking care of him and Stefan, after giving up so much blood. He knows that once she wakes to see him better, she'll be glad she ever made the sacrifice. She'll find it was a small price to pay.

He doesn't thank her, not now, nor will he later, but he's grateful. He trusts she knows he's not the kind to say such things out loud.

When he gets up from the bed he fears that he might find himself dizzy again, or that some part of the illness will have survived, but he finds no indication it has. He wonders why that is, why suddenly he's better. Vampire blood can be thoroughly healing for humans, but for vampires it just provided a temporary thrill ride. Is Amelia that powerful that she can heal vampires too? Heal Stefan and him from some mystery disease? He's never openly asked her how old she is, because he knows she'd only provide him with silence, but sometimes, quite a few times since she found her way back into his life, he can't help but wonder.

She'd been right when she first walked into this room; neither Stefan or Damon have ever called for her help in the past one hundred and fifty years, and yet, right now, it still seems like she's always been there for them. He thinks he's never met anyone quite like her, a selfless vampire no less, adaptable to every situation, never not-thinking, always alert. She must be very old indeed.

* * *

She wakes when she hears someone rumbling in the kitchen downstairs. Elena looks at Stefan but he's still unconscious, has been since she'd fed him Amelia's blood last night. Stefan doesn't look much better though, so she can't help but wonder if the blood is helping at all. She rubs her eyes wearily and stretches, strolling towards the bathroom on unsteady legs. She shouldn't have allowed herself to sleep, or she should have slept longer. This in-between state feels worse than being tired.

The mirror in the bathroom agrees with her; she looks awful. She tries her best to fix that with some water, brushes her teeth and puts on some fresh clothes. On the first floor she notices Damon's bedroom door is open, but she doesn't feel like going inside. His sparkling personality hadn't been jaded by the illness, or so she'd heard from Amelia. She walks through the house aimlessly at first, the rays of sunlight falling in through the windows a little too bright for her still sleepy eyes.

"Amelia?" she asks when she walks into the kitchen, her jaw cracking when she yawns. The refrigerator is open, the person behind the door blocked from her sight. When the door closes, she notices it's not Amelia at all. It's Damon. "Oh, it's you," she averts her eyes, and walks over to the coffee machine; she's in desperate need of some caffeine.

"Morning to you too, princess," Damon says, raising both his eyebrows smugly. He'd been looking for some human blood, but apparently his luck isn't all-inclusive on this sunny day; he'll have to make do with the crap they've been feeding him for the past few days. "Amelia's resting," he explains, and swallows down a big gulp of blood. "She gave a lot of blood."

Elena crosses her arms over her chest after she's made the coffee, and turns to Damon. She looks at him for a few seconds, watching him drink. "You're feeling better." She doesn't make it a question.

"Yup, never thought I'd say this, but this has never tasted better." He jiggles the ceramic cup in front of him. It's good to be back. Though he would kill for some decent blood right about now. "I guess you never do know what you have until it's gone," he grimaces. Elena doesn't relent from staring at him. How come Damon is better? "Lighten up, sunshine, I'm all better." Damon shrugs. "Miss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Elena rolls her eyes, and turns around, watching the coffee machine steaming, drop by drop filling the glass bowl underneath it. "Stefan's still not better," she says, saying it aloud for the first time, giving shape to her worst nightmare. What if he dies? What if Amelia's blood didn't work for him? What if he was already too sick to fight off the disease?

"You should feed him something human," Damon says, reluctantly emptying his cup now filled with some final sips of blood. _He_ needs something human, or before long he'll start suffering from some psychosomatic illness telling him only human blood sustains him. "That'll have him better in no time."

"I'm not going to give him something he doesn't want," Elena answers, a little too harsh maybe. It's one thing for her to fear it, it's another for Damon to believe it too. It becomes too real if he believes it too. Stefan won't die. Stefan can't die. If he dies, part of her will go with him. And what's the use of living a half-life?

"Your funeral," Damon shrugs. "Or you know, _his_."

"How can you be so callous?" Elena turns around, her long hair swivelling around her. Damon thinks that it does so in a way that Katherine's never has. It could do that, conceivably, in his imagination. Or his dreams. "Stefan could die," Elena adds. Everything's about Stefan, Damon thinks, and everything he shares with him. First Katherine, now Elena. Even Amelia isn't entirely his.

"He's already dead," Damon says, and walks over to the sink. He comes dangerously close to Elena. Being her, she doesn't move an inch. She has Katherine's spunk. "And I'm not being callous, I'm being pessimistic," he tells her, face mere inches away from hers. It pains some elusive part of him to see tears in her eyes, and to know that she's already shed endless streams of them over his brother. "Or in this case, _realistic_."

Elena casts down her eyes and tries to catch her breath; her distress is making it hard for her to breathe at all. She hasn't been breathing properly for days, her heart rate heightened, but she knows that if she just keeps hanging on, for a little while longer, she might be able to see Stefan through this. In a way, she hopes that her strength will give him strength.

"Give him this," Damon's voice sounds from further away again; lost in thought she hadn't noticed that he'd moved away, nor had she previously seen that he'd grabbed Stefan a cup as well. She knows that part of him has to care to do that; she just wishes she'd see it more often, and maybe a little bit more outspoken. "It won't do much," Damon adds, but Elena is beyond caring. Even if she has to feed him her own blood through an IV, she'll do it.

Without another word, or another glance at Damon, Elena grabs the mug from the kitchen counter, and retraces her footsteps through the house. This time she doesn't notice the sun, the faint dust flecks dancing in it, the soundless thumps her feet make on the stairs and the hallway floor. The only thing she allows herself to see is Amelia on Damon's bed, and she regards the older vampire from the hallway for long moments, she's not sure how long. Amelia did everything she could, Elena thinks, she won't blame her for Stefan still not being better. Amelia's blood already flowed through Damon's veins long before he got sick. Katherine's blood flowed through Stefan's.

The straw in the cup sways sluggishly from one side the other as she ascends the second staircase to Stefan's room. He's just waking up when she sits down carefully by this side; he moans, and a shiver runs through his body. "Hush," she says, and places a hand on his forehead. He's still burning up.

Downstairs, Elena's choice in words doesn't pass Damon by unnoticed.

"Katherine?" Stefan asks, and swallows hard.

"No, silly," Elena says. How can he mistake her for Katherine? She knows he's sick, and that he's not fully conscious, but she hates hearing the question coming from him. "It's me," she says, and places her hand on his chest, the stillness underneath the palm of her hand something she's already used to. "You need to drink this," she adds, and places the straw near his lips.

"No—" Stefan turns away from the mere smell of blood; it makes him queasy just thinking about it. The sheets curl around his legs.

"Stefan." Elena puts a hand on his shoulder and tries to get him to lie on his back again. "You _need_ to drink this. Please, you need your strength." Stefan shakes his head, and closes his eyes. Elena tugs at him again, succeeding where really she shouldn't have been able too, but Stefan is growing weaker by the second. But one swing of his arm – because he doesn't want to turn in the bed, and he certainly doesn't want to drink – and he hits Elena, sending her crashing to the ground, cup of blood and all. Half of the blood spills out over the carpet, half over Elena's pants.

And then suddenly, Stefan is trashing violently in the bed.

"Damon!" she shouts, and he's there in the room with her before she's called out his name. "He's hallucinating," she explains while Damon makes his way over to his brother. "He thinks I'm Katherine."

"Cool." Damon smirks, and grabs one of Stefan's arms, trying to pin him down. Stefan hits Damon in the jaw, harder than he should have been able to, and throws Damon off. "Okay, _not_ cool," Damon gets up fast again, and makes another attempt at restraining his brother. It's almost as if Amelia's blood has given him momentary strength. Too much strength for Damon to handle alone. "MEL!" he shouts.

Elena hasn't finished blinking or Amelia is in the room with them as well. She runs over to Stefan, throwing him down on his back, straddling him around his hips. "Stefan, calm down!" she says strongly, but all Stefan does is realise he can't move anymore. Amelia's blood is makes him strong, but Amelia is still stronger. "Stefan," Amelia leans in to look Stefan in the eyes. "_Calm down_," she tries to compel him, but Stefan doesn't cease moving.

"It's no use, there's vervain in his system," Damon says, wondering briefly if during any of the previous days he'd lost control like this. He doesn't remember, but he can't exclude the possibility.

Then suddenly, without any warning, Stefan calms down, and passes out again. Amelia waits a few seconds to see if he's not faking, then gets off him, but stays close to the bed just in case.

"I don't understand why he's not getting better," Elena says, remaining seated on the floor. It's not fair in any case. No one, except maybe Amelia, would miss Damon if this thing killed him. Elena would lose everything. "It can't just be his diet."

"Always told him it would do him in," Damon says, and sits down on Stefan's desk, his legs dangling back and forth under it. Amelia and Elena both throw him a glance that tells him that from now on he'd better only open his mouth when he has something useful to say.

"You've been on animal blood for several days too," Amelia says, and crosses her arms over her chest. What is she missing? What is she not seeing? What makes Stefan and Damon so different that her blood can't help Stefan? "There's no reason why Stefan shouldn't be better by now."

"Sure there is," Damon says. Amelia and Elena exchange glances, then looks at Damon.

"Care to enlighten us?" Elena says, putting every ounce of strength she has left in not making it sound angry or spiteful. Why should Damon be the one who survives? What has he ever done to deserve another chance?

Damon sighs. "I think, or _I know_, it's your blood that created me," he tells Amelia. She frowns at him in return, mulling over Damon's words in her mind. "And now you cured me," Damon adds. Is he really the only one who sees? If it's not Stefan's diet, or his exposure to the poison – which is not the way poisons tend to work anyhow – the only factor that is different between Stefan and Damon is who created them.

"You think—?" Amelia starts.

"No," Elena interrupts, and gets up from the ground. This can't be real. This can't be happening. She's the one Stefan loves. She's the one that loves him. She's the one that's been taking care of him these past two days. There's no way in hell that Katherine is the solution to this. "You're saying we need Katherine. And I'm telling you now, there is _no_ _way_ she's touching him."

* * *

Bonnie is not the kind of girl that works well under pressure. So when Elena calls her that night, her voice hoarse from God knows what, asking her to find a spell that can heal people, or make people feel better, or protect them, she rushes through her grandmother's books without really looking at all the titles of the spells. What's going on? Elena had done her best to explain, tears and a deeper distress sounding through in her voice, about how Stefan got poisoned, and about there being no cure.

Elena hadn't said it in so many words, but Bonnie knows that if she doesn't come up with something, Stefan will die, or if he doesn't now, he will perish sooner rather than later. The rush she puts herself through is no good for her, but this is Elena, her best friend, someone she would lay her life down for, who has already lost so much this year. She couldn't bear to see her hurt like that again, even if Stefan is a vampire.

When Elena opens the door for her several hours later, Bonnie is horrified by what she sees. There are dark circles under Elena's eyes, her hair is a mess, and every spark has gone from her eyes. She looks defeated. She looks much the same way she did at the hospital, right after her parents' car accident, not knowing how she'd survived and feeling guilty that she had. She'd barely made it through that alive. How was she going to survive if Stefan died as well?

"Hey. I'm so glad you could make it," Elena says when she holds open the door for her friend; she barely manages the ghost of a smile. Bonnie hugs her, tight, and is reluctant to let go again. But it's Elena who moves back. "Did you find something?" she asks while walking into the living room, and sits down on the sofa.

"Maybe," Bonnie answers carefully. In truth, she's not sure what Elena is expecting her to do. Even if there was some way to cure people, Stefan was a vampire; spells like that probably won't have the same effect on him. "Aren't Damon and Amelia out to get a cure?" Bonnie asks, and settles down on the couch as well, putting her bag and books down on the coffee table.

"Yes," Elena answers, her eyes glazing over when she thinks back on the conversation she had with Amelia. She'd sent Damon out of the room, probably realising that he wouldn't have anything helpful to say, and had convinced her that finding Katherine was their best bet of curing Stefan. Elena didn't like the idea, but she knew that Amelia's concern lay primarily in getting Stefan better, not in how to get to that point. "But I'd rather you find a way then have— _Katherine _around Stefan."

"She's the vampire Damon was looking for in the tomb," Bonnie remembers.

Elena had already figured this might come up sooner or later, and so she'd brought the Katherine picture down from Stefan's room to show to Bonnie. Bonnie looks at her in confusion at first, but when she looks down at the picture – at first thinking it's just a photo of Elena – and then sees the name and year under it, her eyes snap up at Elena quickly. "Oh my God," are the only words she can find.

"Damon and Stefan's ex," Elena says, as if she's said it a thousand times before and is almost tired of repeating it. In truth, she's tired of just hearing the name. She's tired of a lot of things right now. "The vampire that created Stefan. Her blood is the cure." She'd give just about anything to not have to ask this of Bonnie, but she sees no other possible way.

Bonnie looks at her best friend, and understands. "You think he still has feelings for her."

"I don't know." Elena shakes her head. She's not sure of anything anymore. Her life had been turned upside down before, and she'd barely survived. The second time it happened, her love for Stefan had kept her strong. This time around, she doubts she can be that strong. "I mean, _no_, he doesn't," she says resolutely. She knows this, without the shadow of a doubt. Stefan doesn't love Katherine. He never had. He was tricked into loving her. "I just— I don't want Stefan to owe her anything." Elena straightens her shoulders. "What did you find?" she asks.

"It's a protection spell," Bonnie says, and grabs the book she'd found it in; Emily's Grimoire. It seemed to be the only book that had contained any useful spells. "But Elena, it won't cure him. If it works, it'll only make him suffer longer. I don't want to—"

"It's okay, Bonnie." Elena takes hold of her friend's hands, and squeezes them. "I just need some hope," she says, tears filling up her eyes. "I'm so close to losing it." She tries to take a breath, but it's too difficult again.

"Oh, Elena." Bonnie inches closer to Elena on the couch, and throws her arms around her. She holds her close, hoping that she conveys her care for Elena, and her love. Upstairs, Stefan lets out a shout, and falls into another restless night's sleep. In Bonnie's arms, Elena softly starts to cry. Bonnie hugs her tight, and holds onto her for dear life.

* * *

"Oh come on, there's no way you've never seen _The Goonies_," Jenna exclaims, and grabs her beer from the table. "The _slick shoes_ line? I used to quote that every time I came close to talking about shoes." Jenna remembers she wanted the same _James Bond_-like shoes Data had made himself when she was younger. Alaric is looking at her funny when she brings his face into focus again. "I'll admit, I was a nerd."

"I'll drink to that," Alaric says, and takes his beer in hand as well. They both drink, to nerdhood. They're at the bar, munching on peanuts and drinking beer, going over their favourite childhood movies. He doesn't know how they always end up talking about movies, but he figures it's better than their conversations ending up at Isobel.

"Hey, Matt," Jenna calls over, Matt walking over to their side of the bar. "Two more beers, please," she says. She feels herself getting slightly drunk, but she doesn't see what harm one more beer can do. Anything to avoid having their conversation end up at Alaric's late wife again. And possibly Elena's birth mother. It's probably too big a coincidence to be the same Isobel, but the name makes her shiver nonetheless.

Mayor Lockwood joins them at the bar behind Jenna; his presence goes unnoticed by both of them.

"Here you go," Matt says, and hands Jenna and Alaric fresh beers. "Say, where's Elena been these past few days? I haven't seen her around." Part of him feels guilty that he hasn't talked to Elena in such a long time, but he likes the way things are going with Caroline; he doesn't want to do anything to mess that up.

"Over at Stefan's," Jenna says. "Damon and him are down with some nasty flu-bug, and she's taking care of them."

Alaric looks at Jenna, but doesn't speak. It's the first he's heard of Damon and Stefan being sick. He doubts that's even the truth of the matter. Vampires don't get sick, they don't even so much as sneeze. He knows he should feel worried about Elena, alone in a house with at least one of the more vicious vampires he's met. But he doesn't know what to think of Stefan Salvatore, the younger brother.

"Sounds like Elena," Matt concludes, and goes back to work.

Unintentionally, Mayor Lockwood has overheard Jenna Sommers talking about Damon and Stefan Salvatore. It's a strange time in the year to be getting the flu, he thinks. And so suddenly; it was only two days ago that he'd seen both boys here in this bar, at least one of them having the time of his life.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	5. Fear Takes Hold

**author's notes:** whoa, fast update. can't take much credit, my brain rolls these chapters out like hot buns, or something like that. thanks so much for your massively inspiring reviews/comments!

**characters:** Jeremy, Amelia (OC), Damon, Mayor Lockwood, Stefan, Bonnie, Elena

**setting:** AU from 1x14_ - Fool Me Once_ onward

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**;;

**chapter five**

* * *

_I live in fear. It consumes me. In the early evening when the sun begins to fade, the fear comes. Because I know that the night brings death._

The words have new meaning now. He's thought about it, _really_ thought about it, and Johnathan Gilbert's journal suddenly makes sense to him. Before it was simply the ramblings of a sick and deranged man, scared of even the faintest shadow in the dark recesses of the room, but now, this was a man who feared the right thing. The vampires. He remembers the drawings the journal held too.

Jeremy had found a copy of the journal in Elena's bedroom, underneath the board in her closet. Elena thinks he doesn't know about it, but he learned about it a long time ago. He hadn't bothered with her journal, that's private, even if he was madly curious about what her journal would say about Stefan, or Damon, or anything else about the weird things that had been happening around here.

He has to think about Vicky suddenly, and her disappearing, leaving him to fend for himself in a world that had been made better by her. When he thinks about it too long there's an unsettling feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach, and before long he has to think about other things, because his head gets crowded with too many painful memories.

There are things that he wants to share with someone, with anyone, but he doesn't know who to trust. He thinks maybe he'll go talk to Mr Saltzman; something tells him his history teacher had known more about this all along. And Alaric doesn't seem the type to protect him from the big bad world like Elena tries to do, and even Aunt Jenna sometimes. He likes to think he's grown stronger than that; he's not a little boy who needs to be coddled and made to believe the world's made up of puppies and rainbows.

He's not sure what had happened that night of the party, the night Anna said goodbye, the very same night in which he'd seen her face change for the second time. It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd ended up unconscious on the ground, waking up to Elena and Stefan hovering above him. Jeremy's almost sure that Anna is a vampire, even if the notion of it still sounded completely ridiculous. But how can he deny what he'd seen? What she had shown him? He'd gone through the papers again, about the missing people, the so-called animal attacks. It all makes sense now, in a strange and sickening way.

He lives in fear now too. Only he's not consumed by it. Instead there's a drive deep inside him to find out more, to be certain, to _know_. He wants to know if Stefan or Damon have anything to do with it, and if they do, he wants to make sure his sister isn't in any danger. What if they were vampires too? They both walk in the sunlight, but then so had Anna. It's one of the only things he hadn't been able to figure out. Aren't vampires supposed to be creatures of the night?

A hand lands on his shoulder from behind before he has the chance to think about it further. He looks down at the hand, adorned by a ring very close to the one Mr Saltzman owned. "Hey Jer, my man," Damon's voice echoes around him seconds later. He turns his barstool around to find Damon and his new lady-friend standing behind him.

Alaric and Jenna are on the other side of the bar.

"Damon," Jeremy says, and eyes both of them suspiciously. Especially Amelia. He can't help but think she carries with her some sort of ancient beauty, dark red hair, and bright green eyes that aren't for the time being leaving his. There's little else about her he manages to notice right now; her eyes are mesmerizing.

"Say, do you by any chance still have Anna's phone number?" Damon asks, and Jeremy is snapped from his thoughts. Amelia thinks it's curious how he's able to tear himself away from her look; she was just about to compel him.

"Uhm, yeah," Jeremy answers, feeling something elusive pulling tightly in his chest. He'd almost say he recognises it, only he can't place the feeling. Why was Damon asking him about Anna now? What did he want with her? "But it's no use," he adds, hoping Damon doesn't notice how he's analyzing his every word. "She skipped town. I haven't been able to reach her."

Damon leans in. He can't figure why Jeremy is being so difficult. Amelia said she'd compel him if it came to that, so why isn't she? "I'd like to try for myself," he says, and only just manages a smile. Elena's younger brother hesitates a few moments longer, but ends up sighing, and hands Damon his cellphone. "Do you know where she went?" Damon asks while he copies the number into his own cellphone.

"Nope," Jeremy answers, and carefully covers up the papers he'd been reading minutes ago. He notices how Amelia's eyes seem to pick up his every move. Wait, could she be a vampire too? Does that automatically make Damon a vampire? "What do you want with Anna?" he asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

Damon looks at Amelia, and there seems to be an understanding between them that no one else would be able to decipher, even if they tried. Amelia takes a step closer to Jeremy, and looks him deep in the eyes. Jeremy feels the pull of her immediately, so many times stronger this time, and he can only feel himself staring back. "_Forget we ever asked you about Anna_," Amelia says, voice low and compelling, laden with a power he's never felt before.

He doesn't say anything, not a word, and when Damon already turns to move away he figures that's what he's supposed to do. So it's true, the stories, vampires can get into your head, make you believe things and control your mind. But then why does he feel the same right now? He remembers the entire conversation, them asking about Anna. Why isn't he forgetting?

"You—" Amelia starts, but stops and frowns instead. Her eyes examine his neck, but then move further down before they come to rest on his wristband. She frowns again, and then realisation dawns. She purposely decides not to say anything more about it. If Damon were to know that Jeremy was wearing vervain, he might just kill him. There's no need to bring Damon's wrath down upon Elena's brother.

_She knows_, Jeremy thinks as Amelia stares up at him for one moment longer, a soft bemused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and turns around slowly. _She knows _I know _she's a vampire_. His fear grips him in a place very near his heart, and almost paralyzes him. Does this mean he's in danger? And why did she take such interest in his wristband? Elena had gotten him that wristband. His head reels from all the information its currently processing. He needs to get out of here.

Amelia has already joined Damon's side again by the time she sees Jeremy grabbing his things together and almost running for the door. She can't help but wonder if she just confirmed some kind of suspicion he might already have about her kind. She doesn't know what kind of trouble she's just gotten him into, or herself, but she won't speak a word of it to Damon; that's far too dangerous.

"Mr. Salvatore," a voice shakes Amelia from her nostalgia immediately. She looks up to see a man walking towards her and Damon, short-cropped black hair, nice suit. She takes a breath, and feels Damon's arm sneak around her waist already; it's time to play the part again.

"Mayor Lockwood," Damon says, and pulls Amelia even closer to him. He hopes that seeing him with Amelia will convince the most prominent member of the Founder's Council to leave him be quickly. Part of him realises he's clutching to Amelia to stop himself from going for the Mayor's throat right there and then. The Founder's Council had made him sick; he seems to remember a promise he'd made himself about what he'd do when he figured that out.

"Good to see you back on your feet," the Mayor says, and puts his hands in his pockets. He thinks Amelia's extremely beautiful, too beautiful to be bothering with a flimsy carefree soul like Damon Salvatore. His eyes glide over her body, taking in every inch of her. "I heard you and your brother were sick." The Mayor looks up again.

Damon feels fury striking him rather unexpectedly. He's never stopped a man from looking at Amelia before, because she can take care of herself, but this man is pushing the limits. He feels Amelia's arm sneaking around his back as well, probably because she's noticed his anger. It will do him no good to make a scene in here. His hand creeps under Amelia's shirt.

From the bar, it's not hard for Alaric to see the tattoo running up Amelia's back and disappearing under the fabric of the shirt Damon was currently molesting. He recognises the design immediately. But that's impossible, isn't it?

"Oh yeah," Damon says, and manages a forced smile, his teeth clenched tightly together. He really needs to feed soon; this isn't like him at all. Normally he's much more in control. "_That_. Little flu bug-thing. All better now."

"And your brother?" the Mayor asks, prying for more information. He'd been relieved when he saw Damon walk into the Mystic Grill bar unscathed. If it had turned out he and Stefan were vampires that would be a cock-up of massive proportion on Sheriff Forbes' account. He could tell she took to Damon Salvatore; he imagines there are few women that don't.

"He'll be better in no time," Damon answers. He's absolutely convinced now they have to cure Stefan. Before it hadn't mattered to him whether his brother lived or died, even though he would have preferred to be the one to do the killing, but right now, they had to erase any form of suspicion. He was cured, but if Stefan died, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was a vampire as well. "I don't think you've met Amelia," Damon hopes to change the subject. "Amelia, Mayor Lockwood," he introduces them.

"So nice to meet you." Amelia shakes Mayor Lockwood's hand; she notices that he can't stop looking at her body. And that for a married man, shame _shame_. "I'm afraid Stefan and Damon getting sick was my fault," she explains, to make the plan play out in full. After all, she was the unknown factor that had come into Damon and Stefan's life. "I had the flu last week; I must have passed it on to Damon."

For a moment, the Mayor is unconvinced. The lies seem too convenient, too easy and sly, too perfectly coincidental in their construction. But one look into Amelia's eyes, and he's convinced this girl is hardly capable of any lies, let alone to protect Damon Salvatore and risking herself in the process. "Good thing they had you and Ms Gilbert around to take care of them then," he concludes, and leaves them to the rest of their business.

By the time they make it outside, the night's air cool on their skins, Damon is almost seething with anger, the hardship of the past few days and hunger making it difficult for him to control himself at all.

"Let's go grab a bite," Amelia says, arm still around Damon as his is around her body. She likes it like this, when it's just the two of them, even though she knows that tonight's events will lead them down a path they've not walked before. A path that will lead them to Katherine, Damon's one true love. Amelia knows she'll never be able to compete with her.

Damon looks at her in surprise. "Really?" he asks.

Her eyes give him all the answer he needs. She'll give him this now, for as long as she still feels like he belongs to her. Maybe just for tonight. "Make the phone call first," she says, and smiles up at him. "But we're not killing anyone," she adds, raising a finger at him to underline her point. "It's just a bite."

Damon wants to protest, but when he meets with the determination in Amelia's eyes, he just sighs. He can give her this much.

He takes his cellphone from his pocket, and dials Anna's number. At the fifth ring, she finally picks up. "Anna, it's Damon," he says, and hears an intake of breath at the other end of the line. But he doesn't give Anna the chance to say anything. "Don't talk, just listen. Way I see it from our last encounter, you owe me one. So you're going to find Katherine for me as soon as you can possibly muster, and send her this way."

There's a moment's hesitation on Anna's end. "What if I don't?" she asks.

"Then I'll have no choice but to come after mommy dearest," Damon says, not a trace of hesitation in his voice. "I want to bet she's not at full strength yet, after festering down in that tomb so long. Get Katherine here, and we're even." He hangs up. Amelia is staring at him when he turns. "What?" he asks. "You're worried she won't find Katherine?"

"I'm worried she'll take too long," Amelia answers. She doesn't know how much longer Stefan will be able to fight this thing before either his body gives up, or his mind. Elena being by his side probably makes it easier for him to fight, but that strength won't last. This poison will kill him if they don't find Katherine in time.

"That'll be her problem then," Damon shrugs.

"How can you be so—" Amelia shakes her head, falling short of finding the right word. She knows about the animosity that exists between Stefan and Damon, hell, she even understands it, but how can he be – or seem – so apathetic? so unfeeling? It could have easily been the other way around, and if it had been, Stefan would undoubtedly be doing everything in his power to help his brother. Why can't Damon see that? Or is it that he just can't admit that to himself?

"Callous?" Damon offers, suddenly reminded of the word Elena had used earlier that morning.

"Not the word I was planning on using," Amelia answers, sighs, and starts walking. For a second she thinks about how she should just come out and say it, but she knows speeches like that don't reach Damon's heart the way it would others. And in any case, she's not his mother. It's not up to her – especially not after all this time – to be teaching him important life lessons.

"You have brothers or sisters?" Damon asks her suddenly, his footsteps as inaudible as hers. She looks at him briefly, meaning to ask him why he's so interested all of a sudden, but she knows there's little use arguing with him about this.

"I did," Amelia answers, but doesn't meet Damon's gaze again. She remembers her two brothers playing out in the fields, and her younger sister chasing them through the tall grass. Amelia can feel Damon's eyes on her. She breaths in sharply. "They died before I turned." Several years before in fact. Their deaths was one of the reasons she was out there on that battle field. "All of them. And I watched them die." Killed, by the same monsters that ended up killing her. Humans, not vampires.

She doesn't mind talking about this, and she can't blame Damon for being curious. She never talks about her past much, mostly because she's become a constant in history that's impossible to erase. She's played little part in the major events, but she feels part of them nonetheless.

"Were you ever married?" Damon asks next, and she looks up at him in question. Why all these questions now? "Just curious," he answers her unspoken query. He can't say he's never wondered about it before. She's older than him, and there must have been countless of men in that time.

Amelia's hand closes over the silver heart on her necklace. "I was married." His name was Conrad. "And I had children." Three, because it seemed right after losing so much. Two girls, one boy, named after his father. And then it all comes floating back to her, the memories made history, her lineage, all the descendants that she outlived. "I had grandchildren, and great grandchildren." But they died, they all die.

"Exactly how old are you?" Damon sniggers, but only meets with dead silence. He looks at Amelia sideways, who's staring blankly out in front of her. He feels guilty for a moment, because whatever past she's remembering must be horrible. It must be horrible to have lived in a time where you could watch your siblings die, to become a vampire and be hunted, to watch your own children die of old age. But thinking about that only makes him more curious. "Come on. I don't see what's the big deal anyway."

"Because in my days there were still rules, Damon." Amelia stops abruptly in her tracks, and looks at him strongly. Rules she had desperately tried to teach Damon and Stefan as well. At least Stefan had listened. "You didn't turn humans after they were compelled, you didn't leave your creations alone for at least a few years. And most importantly, you avoided detection at all costs."

"Is that why we're out tonight?" Damon asks, ignoring Amelia's point entirely. "To avoid detection?"

"We're here to avoid suspicion," Amelia answers, realising that once again Damon isn't really listening. "What would the Founder's Council think if they found out you and Stefan had been sick?" They'd be quick to put two and two together and organize a lynching mob to come kill them. It wouldn't take them long to implicate her either. Or worse, Elena. "Since they still think there's no cure, you've now made sure they don't think you're a vampire."

"Me? A vampire?" Damon feigns insult. "An upstanding citizen of Mystic Falls?"

* * *

He's dying. Every cell in his body is on fire, his skin, his head, all burning up. His skin is clinging to the sheets, his mouth is dry, his throat parched, and his eyes feel like he hasn't used them in ages. But he holds on to the pain tightly, because it's the only thing reminding him that he's still alive, and that he has something left to fight for. And of course, there's Elena. There's always Elena.

Bonnie warned him that her spell would probably only make him hold on longer, but he knows that's not what it's doing at all. He'd been feeling it for hours before Bonnie arrived; the darkness, beckoning him closer, seducing him into letting go. That's not what worries him now; fighting the darkness is easy if it means seeing Elena for a moment longer. It's the strain his illness is putting on her that pains him beyond belief. He doesn't want her to see him suffer like this; he knows she's been through enough in the past already. Giving into the darkness had never been so tempting.

"What did Bonnie—" he tries to finish the sentence, but his body fails him, his breath catching in his throat, the coughing that ensues shaking the bed. His head throbs, his brain feeling too big to be contained, his eyes swimming in their sockets. Everything hurts.

"She bought you more time," Elena answers, and places her hand on his forehead. It's no use trying to break his fever, she knows this. Stefan is sweaty and sticky and no matter what Elena tries to cool him down – she's even tried ice cubes – nothing seems to be working. "Amelia and Damon will be back with the cure, and you'll be fine," her voice breaks three words in, and tears fill up her eyes, cascading down her cheeks seconds later.

She can't believe this is actually happening. If it hadn't been for Bonnie's spell he might already be dead. She wishes for Amelia and Damon to hurry; she doesn't even care that they'll bring Katherine with her. She just needs Stefan back.

"You mean Katherine," Stefan chokes out, and forces his eyes open painfully. He looks at Elena, and strains to lift his arm to her face. Elena takes hold of his hand as it comes to rest on her cheek, wiping at her hot tears. "I don't want her in the same room as you," Stefan says softly. He doesn't know what Katherine will do once she sees how much she resembles Elena. He fears what she might do.

Elena shakes her head. "I won't lose you, Stefan," she says, voice almost gone from all the crying she's been trying to hold back. How can he talk like this? Doesn't he know she would give her life for him? Can't he see that?

Downstairs, someone rings the doorbell.

Elena's heart jumps in her chest, not out of fear, but at the thought that it might be Amelia and Damon. It drops twice as deep once she realises they wouldn't need to ring the bell. "I'll go see who it is." Elena swallows hard, taking in a breath that doesn't reach her lungs, and wipes her tears away. "Can you watch him for me?" she turns her head, and looks at Bonnie, who's seated at the foot of the bed.

Bonnie nods soundlessly, and watches Elena walking out of the room.

"Bonnie," Stefan calls, voice under a whisper. Bonnie walks over and sits down by his side. He grabs her hand almost immediately, and squeezes it, giving it all the strength he has left. "You have to protect her," he forces the words out gravely, trying to bring Bonnie's face into focus. "Listen!" he hisses, fearing that Bonnie is slipping away from him. "If Katherine..." His body gives up; he feels his skin flushing hot one last time, and then the darkness takes hold of him.

"Stefan," Bonnie calls softly, but her voice doesn't even seem to register. A dreadful memory flashes in front of her eyes, of her Grams lying in bed, just like Stefan is now. _No_. "Stefan!" she calls out loudly, and shakes him by his shoulders. No response. "ELENA!" she shouts, and gets up from the bed, rushing downstairs as fast as she possibly can.

She halts on top of the landing, staring down at the entrance of the house. "El—" she starts, but can hardly believe her eyes when she lays eyes on the scene in front of her.

Elena's standing on the right of the hallway, inside the door, staring wide-eyed into her living reflection.

_Katherine_.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	6. Doppelganger

**author's notes:** i apologize for leaving everyone with a cliffhanger, but i never said i was a very nice person. anyway, hope you all enjoy the new chapter. thanks so much for all your comments and reviews! please read & review!

**characters:** Jeremy, Katherine, Elena, Bonnie, Stefan, Amelia (OC), Damon

**setting:** AU from 1x14_ - Fool Me Once_ onward

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE;;**

**chapter six**

* * *

Jeremy sees her cross the street minutes after he leaves the Mystic Grill bar.

The cool night air that hits him once he makes it outside clears his head only a little, before fresh thoughts come swimming around in his head again. Anna was a vampire, and this Amelia is a vampire. And Damon, well, he had to be a vampire too, unless he was under some kind of elaborate mind-control spell, but that seemed too complicated a plot to be true. So if Damon is a vampire, then... then that means Stefan could be too. The fear strikes him again, gripping his heart tightly when he realises Elena hasn't been home in days.

He'd always seen Stefan as a decent guy, and he didn't push Elena in any way. They looked good together and Jeremy knows his sister loves him very much. What does all this mean? Amelia knows he's on to her, and before long Damon will probably know too. Will they try to skip town? Or will they try to kill him? All that worry comes to a momentary end when he sees his sister crossing the street.

"Elena!" he calls after her, but his sister doesn't turn, nor does she seem to register the sound of his voice. Jeremy pulls his backpack tighter over his shoulder, and runs after her. "Elena," he exclaims again when he's only a few feet away, and slowly, _very_ slowly, Elena turns around. She seems _different_, somehow, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Her hair is curled, that's new, but then he hasn't seen her in days. "What are you doing here? Did you just come back from Stefan's?" he asks.

Elena's eyes narrow for a second, and she looks him up and down conspicuously. "I was just out for a walk." She nods slowly, as if she's not sure of the words herself.

"I just saw Damon," Jeremy says, unsuspecting. He doesn't notice how the woman in front of him is studying his every move, his facial features, and is questioning the ease he takes with her. "He seems to be better. I guess Stefan's feeling better too?"

"Yes. Of course," she answers, and takes a step closer to Jeremy. In the light of the full moon, her skin looks dead-pale, and Jeremy feels it, how his heart skips a fearful beat inside his chest, because the moonlight makes his sister look too much like a vampire. "I should get back there," Elena adds, and takes another step closer, until they're mere inches apart. She looks into his eyes, and focuses. "_Tell me where I can find them_," her voice is low.

Her words and the pull hit him simultaneously. "What?" Jeremy asks confused. It's almost like she's— no, that's impossible. It can't be.

Elena's eyes shift from left to right, and sweep down his body, in the exact same way Amelia's had in the bar. "Damon and Stefan, where are they?" Elena asks, looking up at him once more.

"Damon is at the Grill with Amelia," Jeremy answers, and frowns. He assumed Elena was just getting back from Stefan's, but maybe she'd stopped at home in the mean time first. "I guess Stefan is still at home." She's still looking at him curiously. "Elena, are you feeling okay?" Jeremy asks adamantly, because this doesn't seem entirely like his sister. He refuses to think about the one thing he fears the most.

"I'm fine," she smiles up at him, but it's more coy than he's used to seeing it. It's not a sisterly smile. "Just a little tired." He doesn't believe a word she's saying. He knows what his own sister looks like when she's tired; this woman, this _thing_ in front of him is carrying none of the signs. Do humans know when they're turned into a vampire? Do they realise? Does anything of the person survive?

"Okay." It's the only word he manages to find. He has to get away from there. He needs to find Mr Saltzman and tell him everything he knows, but he's still at the bar with Aunt Jenna. "See you later then." He turns around without paying Elena another glance. Later then. Later he'll tell Mr Saltzman about what he discovered, and they'll work out some kind of plan.

* * *

Katherine stares after the strange boy curiously. The band around his wrist had contained vervain; had this town not changed? The tomb at the church was empty now, devoid of even her memory, but it seemed that the people of Mystic Falls still kept a wary eye out in case vampires strolled through this town again. That was most unfortunate.

Why had he called her Elena? Why had he treated her like a family member or a close friend? It wasn't the first time that night that she'd been called the name. Earlier, as she was lingering near some window shops, a group of teenagers had wished her a good night. Who is this Elena? And what is her business with Stefan and Damon? She decides there and then to pay Stefan a visit. Pearl won't miss her for another few hours, and until she finds out who this Amelia is, she'd best steer clear of Damon. But that's only for the time being.

As for Stefan, it shouldn't be too hard to find out where he was residing now. She'd went by the old house in the woods, but there was hardly anything left of it. A shame really, she had enjoyed the time she'd spend there with the Salvatore brothers. Now it seemed there were new players in town, making a pass at her boys' hearts. She'll have none of that, not now that she's found her way back. Not now that they can truly be together forever.

She compels an innocent passerby to tell her where she might find the new Salvatore residence; she doesn't taste his blood. It's imperative that her presence in Mystic Falls goes undetected for the time being. If people insist on mistaking her for this Elena girl, that's even better for her.

She likes the new house when she lays eyes on it; it's nowhere near as extravagant as the old one, but this one had its charm. In a very small-town kind of way.

The doorbell chimes through the entire house behind the door, and she hears the mumble of voices behind it. It's a human that runs to get the door, that much she can tell, perhaps even the mystery Elena herself. She braces herself when the door opens, but the sight she sees is one not even she could have suspected. It's almost as if she's looking into a mirror across time. No wonder people have been mistaking her for Elena. "Goodness gracious," she says, and looks the girl up and down, much in the same way she had that boy earlier. "You must be Elena." Is this why Elena had stood a chance at Stefan's heart? Because she looked exactly like her? After all these years, was he still not over her?

"Katherine," Elena exclaims. Part of her is paralyzed with fear, because Stefan had told her how cruel she could be, what she did to him and Damon. Another part of her rejoices, because in front of her not only stood her identical twin, but also Stefan's cure. Her hair is curled, like on the picture, only her clothing has been updated to the times. "Where's Damon?" Elena frowns suddenly; Katherine seems to be alone.

"In town, with Amelia," Katherine answers easily. It's curious to her how Elena seems to know her, the surprise in her eyes is not nearly great enough for her existence to be a complete mystery to the human girl. Right now, it seems a bigger surprise to her. She hears someone mumbling upstairs. "Is that Stefan I hear?" she asks curiously. He doesn't sound right. What was it that the boy had said? Damon was better. Better from what? She knew about the dead vampire in the woods; she'd done her best to cover him up once she'd found him. Were Stefan and Damon suffering from the same illness?

"He's dying," Elena blurts out. Didn't Damon tell her? Didn't Damon send her here? She could hardly be here because she heard from someone else. "Only your blood can cure him," she explains still, because she's right, that is Stefan upstairs, suffering beyond belief. Katherine is his only hope now. "Because you created him."

Katherine considers it for a moment. This illness was only cured by the blood of the creator? Curious. But then, how had Damon survive?

Katherine strolls in slowly, and stands in front of Elena, studying her features. There really is an uncanny resemblance. She recognises so much of herself in Elena, except for the carefully chosen ensemble outfit, the long straight hair, and oh yes, the innocence still present in her eyes. Such a human thing to have.

"ELENA!" someone upstairs shouts, and then there are hurried footsteps down the stairs. Another human joins them, but stops in her tracks at the top of the stairs. "El—" the girl starts, but her eyes go wide when she lays eyes on Elena and Katherine.

"Bonnie, what's wrong?" Elena asks, looking up at her best friend. There's terror in her eyes.

"It's Stefan," Bonnie says, "I think he's—" no, she can't say it. Her hands clench hard at the railing of the stairs. Stefan can't die. She can't watch him die, and she can't watch Elena suffer. There's been enough pain already. "Elena, you have to hurry up. Now!" she shouts, and runs back up the stairs.

"Please, we have to hurry," Elena says fast, and is running before she's finished speaking. She hopes Katherine still cares enough to do this for Stefan. Elena rushes up the stairs without looking back, without checking whether Katherine is following her. All she knows is that Stefan is giving up, letting go, and she needs to be there for him. Bonnie is standing at the foot of the bed when she runs into the room, a hand covering up her mouth. Elena rushes to be by Stefan's side.

"Oh my God, Stefan," Elena exclaims, placing a hand softly to his forehead. Please God, don't let it be too late, Elena thinks, even though she's never been a very religious person. She can't watch this, something inside her tells her, she can't watch him die. She's not going to survive that.

"Out of the way," Katherine sneers, suddenly there, and settles her body down next to Stefan. She plants her fangs in the skin at her wrist, breaking through the skin. When the first few drops of blood hit Stefan's lips, there's a double intake of breath from Elena and Bonnie, now both standing by the foot of the bed. Katherine rolls her eyes without them seeing. She gets what Stefan might see in Elena, but really, why bother with a meek little lamb when he can have the tiger? Why bother with a human, when he _and_ his brother can have her?

Stefan stirs on the bed a few minutes later. It's the first sign of life he's shown in a while. "Stefan," Elena breathes, and moves to walk over to his side again.

Katherine blocks her path before she can blink. Elena wants to protest, but immediately she feels a pull in her chest. "_Stay away from him_," Katherine says, hoping to compel Elena, but her eyes fall on her necklace almost immediately. "Does _everyone_ in this godforsaken town wear vervain!" she shouts, and hits Elena across the face. Elena crashes to the ground hard.

"Elena!" Bonnie rushes over to her friend's side.

Katherine grabs her by the hair. "I don't think so, _witch_," Katherine says, and throws Bonnie down on the ground as well. She walks over to Elena, and without giving it another thought, without caring what it does to her skin, she rips the necklace clean off Elena's neck. The pain doesn't matter. The pain always goes away.

"Please," Elena begs, but it's too late. Katherine moves fast, sweeping her hair aside, and plants her fangs deep in Elena's neck.

* * *

His teeth slice through the young woman's skin like a knife through butter; he savours every single drop of blood he takes, but he's careful not to kill her. He promised Amelia. Already he feels his strength growing, the fire in his veins extinguishing, and slowly but surely he's regaining his control over his emotions. He drinks deep, taking his fill, and before soon he feels his hunger waning, everything he's been looking for all day. His lips leave the young woman's skin, and his tongue sweeps across his teeth.

"Are you sure you don't want a taste?" He turns his head to look at Amelia.

They're in the woods, crashing some party. It hadn't been difficult to lure the girl away from the crowd, and it wasn't difficult to make her forget any of this is happening. One of the advantages of being a vampire living on human blood. Amelia is leaning against a nearby tree, making sure no one disturbs them, and regarding Damon as he feeds off the human girl. She's always admired how he fully embraces his existence; she has met others like him, of course, but Damon did it with a grace found in few others.

She admires his taste for the hunt, how he stalks his prey and is merciless even in the face of danger. He reminds her very much of how she started out in this existence. But that was behind her now, the thrill of the chase, the feeling of victory even though they all know their prey is more feeble than them. Part of her misses it; it's part of her existence, and she'd adapted to it fast because there was little other choice. Part of her is content seeing it in Damon, because she's already lived too long, been too many things, felt too many things. She's done and seen everything in this world.

Still, for Damon she's willing to make an effort, especially since she fears she will lose him completely very soon. Amelia walks over to where Damon is standing, the girl pinned to a tree, and brushes the girl's hair to the side on the other side of her neck. She leans in, brushing the tip of her nose across the girl's skin, and breaths in. The hunger overtakes her seconds later, burning in her veins, and she sinks her teeth into the soft tissue hard.

Damon watches her in fascination, how gracious she moves, the real animal inside gaining momentum once more. He's surprised to see her do this now, because he's been suspecting that some part of his creator, her hunter's instinct, had started waning under the pressures of time. He's seen it in others; this day and age vampires don't need to hunt to get blood. There are other ways now. He still doesn't see the appeal of it all, but he can understand why Amelia would.

Right now, having her this close, feeding of this girl with him, it's like he has her closer now than since she arrived in Mystic Falls. When she looks at him again, eyes still pitch-black, her lips smeared blood-red, he's reminded of that one night they spend in Rio during the carnival. It was raining, that night when it was just the two of them, creatures of the night blending into the shadows on the outskirts of the dark, riding high on the waves of pleasure their blood created in each other. For whatever reason, Amelia had surrendered herself to him; she'd been at his mercy, pliant underneath his touch, wordlessly asking for more. And he'd given her everything.

Amelia knows exactly what he's thinking. She can feel his lust for her radiating off him in waves, pulsing through to her own heart, making her want to surrender all over again. It had nothing to do with relinquishing control, or to give Damon what he wanted, but they had a bond between them that couldn't be denied even if they tried to. It had everything to do with getting what they both needed. Right now she needs him more than ever; she needs him to forget about Katherine, if only for a minute, but she knows that's asking too much of his broken heart.

When he sees Amelia like this he wants to own her, he wants to be with her as completely as he once wanted to be with Katherine, creatures of the dark, ruling the shadows. But that thought awakens other memories, far older and much deeper ingrained in his being. Memories of spending endless nights with Katherine, her promise of changing him, of loving him and wanting to spend eternity with him. He's not over Katherine, he knows that, part of him will never be. What else has the past century and a half been about but her?

He wants Amelia, completely, but he can't.

"Race ya," he says fast, and is running before Amelia has a chance to react. She sighs, but runs after Damon. She doesn't know how he can still think that he'll ever outrun her, because she'll always be faster. As expected, she reaches the mansion just before Damon does. He stands, catching his breath, because his diet of animal blood hasn't completely left his system yet. "You're not going to tell me how old you are, are you?" he asks Amelia, eyes narrowing.

"No."

"Because you don't trust me?" Damon asks, but all Amelia does in response is raise an eyebrow. Damon sighs, and crunches his nose. "Don't answer that." He knows he's never done anything in his life to completely deserve anyone's trust.

Amelia laughs, arms crossed over her chest. "It's not that I don't trust you," she answers, and walks over to Damon. "I've just learned that at my age you keep these things to yourself."

"It's because of your blood, isn't it?" Damon asks. He knows there's a black market for that stuff. He'd seen many things in his lifetime so far, but vampires selling vampire blood for profit was stooping very low.

"It's disgusting," Amelia says as they walk towards the house. She'd had some close run-ins with black market dealers in the past; since then she's been absolutely insistent on keeping her age to herself. "And dangerous. It's not something I..." something stops her from saying more. There's something disturbing the air.

"What is it?" Damon asks, watching Amelia look at the house intently. She breathes in deeply, and it only confirms her suspicions. She smells blood; she smells a _vampire's_ blood. It's not something every vampire picks up on, but Amelia has enough experience to notice the difference with a human scent. Right now, the scent could only mean one thing: Katherine is already here.

Stefan's scream catches both their attention as soon as it's out. Next thing they're running again, Damon and Amelia, side by side, until they reach Stefan's room. The sight in front of them has them both speechless. "Elena, what the hell are you—?" Damon starts, but can't finish his sentence. It's not Elena sitting by Stefan's side, feeding him her blood. It's not Elena, but he can smell her blood. He glances to the right side of the room, and that's where he finds Elena, and Bonnie, unconscious on the floor. "Katherine," the word escapes him beyond his control.

Katherine gets up from the bed, and turns to face Damon and Amelia, who are still keeping close to the doorway. "Hello, my darling," she smiles, folding her arms behind her back. "Miss me?" She looks at Damon, a sly smile ghosting across her lips. He's not changed a bit, she thinks.

"What did you do to them?" Amelia asks, disregarding Katherine's ease, her teasing, her every manner. She'd once told herself that she'd kill Katherine if she ever met her, and right now her concern for Elena's and Stefan's welfare is the only thing keeping her from doing so.

"You must be Amelia," Katherine says, and looks her up and down, tilting her head. She makes no attempt to hide her contempt for the redhead. Who is she anyway? She's a vampire, that much is clear. What's she doing with her Damon? "I hear you've been taking care of my Damon _real_ good." Katherine supposes she can't blame her for that. Damon has always been a catch.

What happens next passes in a blur. "Mel!" Damon shouts when he sees her charge towards Katherine.

Next thing, Amelia crushes Katherine against the wall, arm against her throat, her other hand subduing both of Katherine's arms behind her back. Damon doesn't move another muscle. He knows what Amelia is capable off; he knows her strength. She could rip Katherine to pieces like a ragdoll.

It's only then that Katherine feels it; right underneath the surface she can feel the power exuding from Amelia, pulsing from her in waves. She must be very old for her to have that kind of power, for her to be able to feel it this outspokenly. Why is a vampire as powerful as Amelia bothering with the Salvatore brothers?

"You didn't hear nearly enough then," Amelia hisses, keeping a crushing weight against Katherine's throat. "_What_ did you do to them?" Amelia asks again, giving Katherine just enough room to answer. She fears what Katherine might have done. Both Bonnie's and Elena's hearts are still beating, but they've both clearly been bitten. Who knows what else Katherine has done to them.

"They're not dead," Katherine answers defiantly. "_Yet_."

Stefan stirs on the bed. "Elena," he chokes out.

"Damon, take care of them," Amelia says, referring to Elena and Bonnie. "Damon!" Amelia calls out again, but all Damon has eyes for is Katherine.

_She's here_, he thinks, after all these years of searching, of hoping, of waiting for her, Katherine is actually here. He'd always seen Elena as a dead ringer for Katherine, but it's only now that he sees the world of difference between them. It's all in the eyes.

Amelia sighs and releases Katherine; she has to, before she loses control of her emotions. She's not one to act on impulse anymore, but Katherine stirs powerful emotions inside her. Right now however, Stefan's health takes precedent. She walks over to him on the bed. "Elena's here, Stefan," she says. "You have to rest. You'll be better in no time."

Stefan nods, and falls into his last restless slumber. After tonight, he'll be healthy again.

Amelia gets up and faces Katherine. "I want you out of this room," she says, eyes ablaze with anger. She can't have her here, knowing what she did to Elena and Bonnie, knowing what she'd been capable off all those years ago. Knowing what she's capable of making Damon feel.

"Make me," Katherine taunts.

Amelia clenches her jaws together, her hands forming into fists. There are few people that can test her patience like this. "Mel," Damon says before Amelia has a change to react to Katherine. He moves to stand between both women; he doesn't want to see this turn into a fight. A fight Katherine would lose. Both Amelia and Katherine stay in place, so he turns around and looks at Katherine. He has to get at least one of them out of this room, and something tells him it won't be Amelia. He looks at Katherine strongly, yet he knows that there's something in his eyes that pleads with her desperately.

Katherine stares back at him hard, and she doesn't relent. Still, there's something inside her that tells her she should go. It's clear that Amelia has been hardwired in both Damon's and Stefan's life. She needs to get to the bottom of it, and fighting Amelia won't tell her anything. She casts down her eyes, and takes a breath. She turns on her heels and leaves the room.

Damon glances at Amelia over his shoulder.

Amelia feels her lips part, words on the tip of her tongue but they refuse to come out. She knows what just happened. She's lost whatever hold she still had on Damon, whatever kept him tethered to her these past 150 years. She wants to say something, but she knows no words will reach him now.

So she lets him go.

Damon follows Katherine out the door.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	7. Let's Play Pretend

**author's notes:** you guys' comments on the past few chapters have been absolutely FAB! thank you so much to all of you. i hope you all like the new chapter, i had a blast writing it. please read & review! -- i added some pictures to my profile for visuals on Amelia -- setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 7: let's play pretend

* * *

He follows her downstairs in silence. He knows she expects him to, to follow, to obey, to have waited for her all these years. He knows that maybe he should feel insulted to be taken for granted like that, but it's no different from how he treats people around him. He must have gotten that from her too. Katherine stops in the living room, and stands in the middle of the room. He figures she's waiting for him to say something. But what is there to say after everything that's happened?

"I've been looking for you," he says still, because he's not one for awkward silences. And he needs to know. He needs to know why she didn't come looking for him, why she left him to die, why she's back now. Is it just to save his brother? Is he still sharing her with his brother?

"I heard," she answers, and looks around the room disinterested.

He wants to ask her how she can be so callous, seem so unfeeling towards him now, but he can't make the words come out. He could tell her, but it would make him a hypocrite. They're alike, he realises that now, but he doesn't remember if it's always been like this. Maybe she just made him into this. "How long?" he asks, keeping his head high, and straightens his shoulders. How long ago did she hear? When did she decide that he wasn't worth her trouble?

Katherine looks at him, at the once-human man she'd known all those years ago. He's trying to tell her something, make her read between the lines, but that's not why she came here. She didn't come here to be taught any lessons about life. There's only one way to deal with Damon. "Oh, darling, don't despair." Katherine makes her way towards Damon. "I'm here now." She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. Damon doesn't object. "That's all that matters."

Damon casts down his eyes, but his hands move down around Katherine's waist. "I spend the past century and a half..." he starts, but Katherine puts a finger to his lips. His eyes find hers, truthfully, for the first time that night. The thought that he'd been staring into Amelia's eyes in a similar way not half an hour ago doesn't reach his conscious mind.

"Shhh," Katherine silences him wordlessly, pulling away her finger from his lips. "Don't talk," she says, settling her body closely against his. "I've missed you," Katherine whispers, not breaking away from his gaze. His mind draws a blank; he can't think when she's this close. He doesn't think about how she's probably manipulating him, simply because when she looks at him like this, his mind clouds over, and there's only her. And Katherine knows that.

He feels desperation enveloping him from every possible side, clutching around his heart tightly, just the way he remembers it. He suddenly feels what it's like to be human again, to feel so hopelessly in love with Katherine. He remembers what it was like in her arms, how powerful she made him feel despite being the stronger one. And it's desperation that makes him lean in, makes him close what little distance there's still left between them, take her face in his hands, and capture her lips with his own.

He kisses her like he hasn't seen her in forever; he makes every second count. He savours the feel of her hands clutching at his shirt, her tongue gaining entry in his mouth, the taste of her. Everything. He remembers this, he's _missed_ this. "I've missed you," he whispers against Katherine's lips, and kisses her again, deeply, dragging her down on the sofa with him.

Amelia is on the landing when she sees them, in the middle of the living room, holding onto each other for dear life. She's helping Bonnie down the stairs; she'd left Elena to recover upstairs with Stefan, but she thought it best that Bonnie recovered in her own room for the time being. Elena and Stefan will probably enjoy some time to themselves once they both wake up again.

Bonnie looks up at Amelia, who takes in a shuddery breath before continuing down the hallway. She wonders what Amelia is thinking, what she feels when she sees Damon with Katherine like that. It's clear that Amelia cares for Damon, but does she love him? It seems unlikely; Amelia must know about Damon's feelings for Katherine. "You don't mind?" she asks still, hoping that what little words she manages to utter come across with the right meaning.

"It's his life," Amelia answers in short.

"The life _you_ gave him," Bonnie insists, while Amelia helps her sit down on her bed. Her head feels like it's going to explode, just like last time she drank vampire blood. She hopes she won't be doing that again in the near future. Or ever.

Amelia doesn't even try to answer Bonnie's statement. It's true that she's the one that turned Damon, but he was never hers. Never completely. She's always had to share him with Katherine, even though she was never around up until now. All that she knows for sure, is that she can't stay in this house if Katherine decides to stay as well.

* * *

He's staring at himself; a reflection in a wall made up entirely of mirrors.

At first he thinks it's Elena that's dancing circles in the middle of the room, flying, a red ribbon in her hand that she makes float around her like magic. A closer look makes him realise it's Katherine; he could tell them apart anywhere. He wonders what she's doing here, with him.

Her reflection doubles suddenly, but it's different somehow. "Elena?" he asks, and takes a step towards the mirror wall, frowning. "What are you doing in there?" Katherine's reflection isn't her own; it's Elena, trapped behind the glass of the mirror.

"Stefan!" she shouts, but her voice is but a whisper on his side. "Help me!"

He walks over to her, his hands on the glass barrier between them, Elena's hands reflecting his. He looks at Katherine over his shoulder. "What did you do to her?" he asks.

Katherine stops dancing, and puts her hands behind her back like a child that has misbehaved. "It wasn't me," she shakes her head, pouting. "It's you that chose to see her in me." He doesn't know what it means, at all, nor does he care to find out. Elena is screaming, disappearing right in front of him.

Stefan awakes in a start, but doesn't move when his eyes open. The sunlight pours in through the windows, and there's a warm hand on his chest. He glances to his left, and there she is, Elena, sleeping silently next to him. Safe. He turns on his side, and kisses her hand gently, hoping it won't wake her up, but the slight movement of the bed and the rustle of the sheets make her open her eyes. He feels sorry for a second, but then she smiles at him immediately.

"Hey you," she says, and rubs her sleep-shot eyes. It looks like she got her first good night sleep in days. He knows the same goes for him.

"Hey," he smiles softly, and leans in to kiss her. Elena's hand curls around his neck, and he moves his to her waistline to pull her closer. He hasn't felt this good in days.

"I thought I'd lost you," Elena mutters against his lips, but then she's kissing him again, and he can't help but kiss her back. Even though she hasn't been away from him a single moment, he's missed her like mad. There's something he thinks he should know, but all that blurs into nothingness when he's with Elena.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says when he gets the chance to breathe, "Never."

"What do you say we get you in the shower." Elena touches a finger to his nose teasingly.

"Only if you join me," he whispers against her skin, and Elena chuckles loudly. It's one of the most beautiful sounds he's heard in a long time. Suddenly, he hears the exact same laughter coming from downstairs. He knows it then; it's Katherine's blood that saved him. She's here, in the house, undoubtedly being entertained by his brother. He's not sure what to think about that. Damon had just gotten out of his own pity-spell. He doesn't like the idea of Katherine and Elena in the same house either.

"Is that Damon and..." Elena sits up in the bed, listening to the mumble of voices coming from downstairs as well. She looks back at Stefan, and he nods at her. _Katherine_. That bitch actually had the nerve to hurt her. Elena catches eye of the necklace Katherine had torn from her neck the night before. She gets up and snatches it from the ground. "It's broken," she says, making her way back to the bed, lying down in Stefan's arms.

"We'll get it fixed," he says, hugging Elena close to him. He can't believe Katherine did what she did. He's grateful that she deemed him worthy of rescue, but she had no right to do that to Elena, hurt her the way she did. He'd gotten over her a long time ago, unlike Damon, and he won't stand for this anymore.

"What happens now?" Elena asks softly, looking up at him expectantly. Will Damon leave? Will they finally be rid of him? She'd always thought the idea of Damon leaving would relieve her, but all she feels is sorrow. How does Amelia – how has she ever – fit into all of this? It's then that she realises: Amelia hasn't. She's never been around Stefan or Damon with Katherine physically present as well.

"We take a shower," Stefan answers. Elena chuckles again. "And then I'll talk to Damon."

* * *

Half an hour later, Stefan and Elena come down from his room, fresh and showered, and set on having breakfast together. He hears Amelia opening and closing drawers in her room. He goes to her to thank her for looking out for Elena and Bonnie, while really she didn't have to. When he reaches the room, Elena in tow, Amelia is running to and fro to gather her things together.

"Mel, what are you...?" he starts, but he realises all too well what Amelia is doing. He can't remember a time when she stayed with them this long. "You're leaving," he adds softly, leaning against the doorframe. Elena joins him in the door, surprised to see Amelia packing her bag.

"I..." Amelia wants to tell him that she can't stay. That she can't be in a house where Katherine now roams as well, and that she can't stand to see Damon under her spell. But she doesn't say it, because Stefan knows exactly what she's not allowing herself to utter. "My work here is done," she says instead, and zips her suitcase shut.

"I'm going to miss you," Stefan says as she makes her way towards the bedroom door. Damon has never seen her as a mother; he only called her that to get under her skin or tease her, but Stefan, he's always seen her as a parent. He'd be nowhere in this world if it hadn't been for Amelia guiding him all those years ago. "Promise me it won't be another sixty years until I see you again?"

"Promise," Amelia smiles softly, and hugs Stefan tightly. She'll miss him too, more then he will ever know. Then she turns to Elena. "You take care of my boys now," she says. "And call me whenever either give you trouble?"

Elena wants to ask her to stay, but she knows that might be too much to ask of Amelia. She knows she cares for Damon, but could it be that she actually loves him? That seeing him with Katherine is too much for her to handle? "No problem," she smiles broadly, and hugs Amelia as well. She thinks that she might have found a friend for life in Amelia. Or something like it.

Amelia hates to leave like this, without making sure that Elena will be safe, or if Katherine's intentions are on the up-and-up, but being around her is suffocating. She hasn't allowed herself to be ruled by her emotions in such a long time, because that meant heartache and suffering for all parties involved, but Damon, _damn him_, he has this way of getting under her skin, making her wish there truly was nothing human left inside of her.

The devil herself is waiting for her on the landing, blocking her path downstairs. "Leaving so soon?" Katherine asks, tilting her head, keeping up the thin sheet of pretence. Something inside of Amelia sets ablaze, her heart perhaps, but she knows she can't give into it. "And here I was hoping we could catch up."

Amelia sighs, and casts down her eyes. She can be the bigger person here; she has to, or she might yet rip Katherine's throat out. She can't, Damon was never hers, and he loves Katherine. She's known love in many forms in her lifetime, but each was precious in its own way. She's not going to take that away from Damon, not when he maybe, just maybe, has a chance to be happy. While it lasts. "There's no competition here, Katherine," Amelia says softly.

Is there really, Katherine wonders, as she lets Amelia pass her on the landing, dumbfounded at the older vampire seemingly accepting defeat. She must love Damon very much indeed, for her to walk away like this. She admires that about Amelia, but at the same time she's glad to be rid of her. The sooner she gets out of town, the better.

Amelia knows there's only one thing left for her to do: say goodbye to Damon. They've never been particularly good at it; in fact, they've mostly avoided it over the years. Damon is waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs; she can't read his expression. She'd think to see him happier than ever, since he has Katherine back and all.

She halts in front of him, and they share a silent moment. He wants to tell her not to go, but he knows he can't stand to have both Katherine and Amelia around at the same time. She wants to tell him something far more profound, but then she's not sure it's what he needs to hear right now. "Can you do one thing for me?" Amelia asks, and looks up at Katherine, who is still standing atop the stairs. She doesn't care what she hears or doesn't hear. Amelia is pretty sure even Stefan and Elena can hear them. "Keep her away from Stefan and Elena."

"You could have compelled her." Damon raises an eyebrow. He tells her that, instead of one simple word: _stay_. If Amelia stayed she could watch over Stefan and Elena herself. She could become part of their albeit strange family, if that's what they are. Amelia doesn't say anything; she knows she could have compelled Katherine, but the spell wouldn't last very long. Not long enough at all. "So you're really leaving," Damon says when Amelia doesn't speak, arms crossed over his chest. "Running away? Or other places to be?"

"A very strong need to not be here," Amelia says, and makes her way towards the door. This is not a matter she will settle on. If she stays, she will lose control. "You should consider leaving as well. It's only a matter of time before people start noticing there are two Katherines walking around."

"You're being selfish," Damon says, eyes darkening. Stefan hears the words his brother speaks; he doesn't understand why suddenly he's trying to get Amelia to stay. Because that's what he's doing when he calls her selfish; Damon is trying to pick a fight, that's what he does best, hoping it will make Amelia put aside her pride and stay. But for whose sake?

Amelia sniggers, and halts in her tracks. She doesn't turn to face him. "Yes, Damon. I am. I think I've earned the right to be." She doesn't understand why he's trying to pick a fight all of a sudden, why he suddenly seems to care. He has his Katherine back. What does she matter now? "I don't want to be here, so I'm leaving. I was thinking Italy, hear it's nice this time of year."

She reaches for the door, and opens it, but then Damon is behind her, violently slamming the door shut in front of her. She feels his chest connecting with her back. Amelia closes her eyes. "What is your problem with Katherine?" he asks, Amelia's eyes snapping open again, and she frowns to herself. She doesn't understand his question. Is it that he can't stand the idea of her hating Katherine? Or is it something else?

"Does it matter?" Amelia asks, shaking her head, trapped between the door and Damon's body. "You have her back. She'll go back to lying to you and breaking your heart." If he thinks he can get away with telling her exactly what's on his mind, she doesn't see why she couldn't do the same. "It's always the same old song, Damon." She tells him this in a straight voice, the only way she knows how. Katherine hasn't changed, none of them really do, they just become enhancements of their once human selves.

"You don't know her," Damon's face falls. He didn't mean for this to turn so serious; if he'd known Amelia would give him the truth so blatantly he never would have tried to say goodbye. He never would have tried to make her stay. Because this is it, his way of saying goodbye; she must know he can't give it to her any straighter. He doesn't want them to part on these terms; he wants to make sure that one day she does return to him.

"She left you to die. I'm the one who brought you back," Amelia says strongly. She's the one that found him in that field, the one that never left, the one that stayed and taught him almost everything he knows today. But she knows she has no right to say these things; Damon was never hers. "Do you..." tears shoot in her eyes, but she tries to control them, "Do you remember the first thing you did when you woke up?"

Damon casts down his eyes. They always come back to this. He knows he owes her his immortal life. In a way, he owes her Katherine. "I thanked you."

Amelia turns around then, looking Damon in the eye. "And you ran for the church," Amelia adds solemnly. It's always been Katherine.

It's only then that he sees the tears in her eyes, reflected now in his own. "I love her." He frowns.

"You love the _idea_ of her," Amelia says strongly, pushing him aside. Damon's back hits the wall, rattling the door in its hinges. "The ideal little life she set up all those years ago for the both of you. And oh yes, _your brother_." Damon's eyes set ablaze at the mention of Stefan. No, he won't hear this from her too. "That's not love, Damon. That's greed."

Damon tries to push Amelia off him, but she keeps him at arm's length. His struggle is in vain. "And what were you when you turned me?" he asks instead, muscles flexing as he continues to fight Amelia's hold on him. He won't take this, he _can't_ take this. She has no right to tell him these things.

Amelia hesitates to answer, but seeing how they were suddenly sharing now, why should she spare him? "_Foolish_," she says, and feels how Damon instantly stops struggling. It breaks her heart to know her words can affect him like this, but she has to get this out. Katherine hadn't deserved him when she met him, nor Stefan, but she deserves Damon now.

"What are you..." Damon clears his throat, suddenly uncomfortable being this close to Amelia. Upstairs, Elena looks at Stefan strongly, and a frown forms between her eyebrows. What does Amelia mean, _foolish_? "What are you saying?" Damon shakes his head.

Amelia doesn't take her eyes off him. Maybe it's best she just tells him, save them both heartache and further suffering. Maybe it's best to make this a clean break. Be the monster he is, to give him the life he thinks he wants. She'd be truly selfish if she didn't allow him at least the try. "If I had known you as a human, as the human she made you into, I never would have turned you," she says gravely. Damon's eyes are fixed on hers. He doesn't notice how Katherine has slowly made her way down the stairs. "Everything inside of you that is untrustworthy, depraved, and evil, _she_ put there."

Amelia nods her head towards Katherine, behind Damon now, and Damon looks at her over his shoulder. "Katherine created a monster, and I gave it eternal life," Amelia finishes. She takes a step back, and grabs her bag. She opens the door, Damon remaining stiffly in place. So that's what it all boils down to; Amelia hates him too. He's not a man that can be loved, that can be trusted, that is in any way redeemable.

All of it is out now, everything's she's never told him, everything she's always regretted doing. Damon is just another mistake she once made. Yet he's the one mistake she would make over and over again if she were to get the chance to go back in time, go back to that field. Damon is the best mistake she ever made. Amelia doesn't linger another moment; she leaves Damon a broken man in the hallway, and runs for her car.

Damon stares after her, tears in his eyes that won't escape, because she's told him everything he's always had to hear. Good for her, he thinks, if she manages to get away from all this, remain unaffected by her past, then good for her. Maybe they can both find some peace now. "That's it?" Stefan appears next to him out of nowhere; Elena told him to talk to Damon. "You're just going to let her go?"

"You heard her," Damon says, taking in a deep breath, and slaps a hand down on his brother's shoulder. Stefan can see through it easily enough, just like Elena and Katherine can. "She wants nothing to do with me. What can you do?" Damon shrugs, and slowly makes his way to the kitchen. He needs a drink badly.

"He still doesn't see," Katherine's voice sounds from behind Stefan. She doesn't touch him; she knows that if she wants to make her way back into Stefan's heart she'll have to do it differently than with Damon. For now, he can have his Elena. "He never will, you know, not even if it stares him in the face." The fact that Amelia had turned Damon comes as a surprise, but it's nothing she can't work around. "It'll always be too late."

Stefan doesn't move. "And whose fault is that?" he sneers.

"Ouch," Katherine smiles, surprised to hear the words coming from Stefan. He was always the gentler soul. "So you actually grew some teeth in the past hundred years. I have to admit, I'm impressed." And she does like a challenge. "I'm less impressed by your choice in women. Not very variable, is it?" She looks towards Elena, still at the top of the stairs. Elena only stares at her hard for a few moments, before making her way back up to Stefan's room.

Stefan reacts on instinct. He turns, and pushes Katherine back against the same wall Amelia had pushed Damon against. He knows she lets him; his strength could never rival hers. "You go near her, and I swear to God, I will drive a stake through your heart without blinking."

Katherine believes him.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	8. Home, Sweet Home

**author's notes:** you guys rock, have i mentioned that? hope you all like where this is going! please read & review! -- i added some pictures to my profile for visuals on Amelia -- setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 8: home sweet home

* * *

**1864**

* * *

He's in the dark.

Not the kind he's known ever before in his lifetime. This darkness is all-consuming and pitch-black, around him, in him. It is him. He can't move, because he isn't. He is not. Non-existent. He has no body, no thoughts, no hands to feel around with, and no heart. He doesn't feel in this dark. But it pulls at him, kneading him into a form he's not all too sure will be completely him once the dark is finished with him. The dark fills in whatever is missing. It fills in the lack of him.

When he wakes, he's not breathing, nor does he feel the need to. He sits up, one smooth movement upright, and looks around. There's a woman sitting on the ground next to him, her red hair – it's dark but he can make out the colour – spun in a bun of unruly curls. "What happened?" he asks, without needing the passage of air. "Who are you?" She turns her head to look at him slowly. She'd been watching the smoke rise on the horizon; the church is still burning.

"My name is Amelia," she speaks calmly, looking at him with her green eyes. She looks at him like she's done this before, watched a broken man put back together again and see him wake up in a field that had once held bundles of vervain. He looks around in alarm, suddenly reminded of what had happened. _Katherine_. "Don't worry." She picks up on his distress easily. "You are safe now."

Her words don't calm him. He remembers; Katherine succumbing to the vervain in his blood, his father urging him to get the sheriff; his brother. Betrayed. He shot his brother, but... but his brother shot him too. He stares down at his chest, his shirt torn and bloodied, but when he reaches for his skin there's no wound. "I..." he starts, but he can't say it. "No. It's impossible," he says, and shakes his head.

Amelia looks at him with the most compassionate eyes he's ever seen. It seems as if she hardly desires to be there herself. "You were already transforming when I got here." She speaks as if she reads his mind. She must be one of them for her to understand so quickly. "There was nothing I could do."

It's only then that he looks at his brother. Will he change too? "And Damon?" he asks carefully.

Amelia turns her head, and looks at Damon; she'd been sitting between the two of them. "He'll wake up again soon." She pushes a dark curl from Damon's face. She doesn't know why she felt compelled to turn him; maybe it was her own loneliness that had spurned her rash decision. People shouldn't be punished for who they love.

Stefan knows that soon, he'll have to make the choice. Feed off a human, or die. Amelia already knows he will choose immortal life. It is the primordial human condition; their minds cannot conceive of a state of non-existence. Immortal life isn't everything, but it is some form of existence. He will not choose death. No one willingly chooses death.

He gets up from the grass, his head spinning. Katherine had told him he'd feel disoriented after transforming. He looks around, his eyes focusing on his surroundings. They've moved since the fight with their father; he's nowhere to be seen, and there's more tree coverage. He figures Amelia must have moved them out of sight of any curious passers-by. He's never seen her before. Does she know Katherine? Is she one of the vampires that has been living in Mystic Falls since Katherine's arrival?

He hears his brother wake up in the grass; it's a subtle change in the air, even though his brother doesn't breathe either. "Damon, everything is alright," Amelia says, her voice as soft as before. She has done this before; she must have. The first thing Damon notices about her are her eyes; they're not fierce, or animalistic. They're _human_, riddled with sympathy, yet he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he detects incomprehension.

"You..." he starts, but something tells him that he doesn't need to say anything more. She'll know what he means. How he knows is beyond his comprehension, but somehow, in the moment his eyes meet hers, he knows she's the reason he's a vampire now.

"Yes," she says.

He feels at his chest, where he had felt the bullet penetrating his skin, but there's no wound anymore. He knew it'd be like this, Katherine had told him all about it. He'd be in the dark at first, floating, until it accepted him into its folds, and he would become one with it. "Thank you," he breaths, and gets up fast on unsteady legs. He's running before he knows it.

"Damon, _don't_." The woman is between him and his goal faster than even his vampire eyes can see. He'd seen Katherine move fast, but this woman was faster. She looked older too. But she's in his way, he has to pass, she needs to get out of his way. He needs to find Katherine. "You mustn't let them see you." She grabs his arm when he tries to make a run for it again; the hold on his arm is crushing. "It's too late for those inside, but not for you."

She looks at him with great authority, yet she keeps her voice steady. He looks at the church, burning, and at the woman who gave him his immortal life. His thoughts are reeling. _Emily_, yes, he needs to find Emily. She promised to keep Katherine safe; she will help him. "Who was she?" the woman asks; he doesn't know her name, but he thinks it won't be long before he does.

"She was..." he shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Everything. She was everything."

Amelia wants to tell him she's sorry, that time will heal his wounds, but she knows how that sounds. She knows in a vampire's life such things are lies. They stand like that for hours, watching the church burn to a cinder. Only Damon knows, that underneath the hot stones, there's a tomb held shut by magic, holding twenty-four vervain-laced vampires chained to the walls.

* * *

**NOW**

* * *

He doesn't think he's ever hurt this much in his entire life. The bourbon, running hotly down his throat, does nothing to hurt the scorching ache burning deeper and deeper down to a place where he doesn't want it. How could Amelia have said those things to him, so bluntly, without blinking, without even the pretence of caring?

"It's a little early to be drinking, isn't it?" Katherine joins him in the kitchen. He thinks about how it must be night somewhere in the world, but refrains from saying it, because he knows how incredibly lame that sounds. "Does she mean that much to you?" She admits, she's jealous. Amelia seems to have a bond with both Stefan and Damon that now surpassed her own.

"Not enough to chase after her," he answers scathingly.

Katherine realises the years have made Damon bitter. This is not the same Damon she had once known. This was a vampire, a creature she had to get to know all over again. Maybe Amelia had done her a favour by leaving. "My poor baby boy." She closes the distance between them, and puts a hand on his cheek. He turns and looks at her reluctantly. "All lost and alone in this world. But not to worry now. Mommy's home and..." One of her words makes Damon break away from her. He turns his back on her. "What?" she asks.

It's that word, _mom_, that he hates. He uses it to tease Amelia, but in truth he hates it. He's never seen her as a parent. Or at the very least he's tried not to. "She was right about one thing," he says, staring blankly out in front of him. "She's the one who turned me."

Yes, Katherine thinks, that was most unfortunate. She could never play the 'I'm your creator' card on Stefan, because he hates what he is and that will never persuade him in his love for her. But it would have been convenient in Damon's case. Still, it won't dissuade her from her eventual goal. "Then you know that bond you have with her is artificial," she says, walking over to him again. She puts a hand on his back. "Our bond is real. Why do you think I waited to turn you?"

At the sound of her words he turns around abruptly, startling Katherine with his speed. "Why didn't you come find me?" Damon asks strongly, his face mere inches away from Katherine's. "One hundred and forty-five years, and not a word. You were in town, weren't you?" his eyes narrow conspicuously. "Was it even Anna that send you here?"

Katherine's eyes darken. "I don't think I like what you're implying," she says, her teeth clenched tightly together.

"I want the _truth_." Damon grabs her by her shoulders strongly. "About all of this, me, and Stefan. About your _wonderful plan_ for us." He sees her eyes widen in surprise. Oh yes, he knows all about that now. "It's been a century and a half, Katherine, a person hears these things."

She's left to stare up at him for long moments. The years have not just made him bitter, they've made him smarter. She would be impressed if it wasn't so very unfortunate. She'll have to stick with only one of the Salvatore brothers, she thinks. If she tries to get her hands on Stefan too, she will lose both of them. "Stefan means nothing to me," she says, and looks up into his eyes. "I need you to trust me, Damon."

There's that word again, he thinks, _trust_. He doesn't trust anyone anymore. He's the only person he can count on; especially now that Amelia has decided he's not worth her time anymore. He hopes that wherever she is – it sure as hell won't be Italy – she finds peace with what she did to him.

Katherine is still staring up at him; he can feel her eyes burning more holes in him. "I do," he says, "trust you." He knows he adds it belatedly, and Katherine probably isn't satisfied with the answer, but it's all he can give her. He hugs her, tightly, but only so that he doesn't have to look at her.

* * *

She forces the tears down as best she can, to make sure she can see the road ahead, and to stop herself from getting hung up on the ridiculous idea that Damon and her could ever work. What was she thinking involving herself in Damon's life? What was she thinking when she said she'd help Stefan track down other vampires in Mystic Falls? Amelia knows that Stefan likes to see her as some kind of mother figure, but that's not what she is. She's just another vampire, far more empathic than Damon could ever be, but far less righteous than Stefan thinks she is.

Damon and her had worked just fine up until now. They saw each other every few decades, and that was enough. They didn't need any more from each other. They both realised they weren't human anymore, other rules applied to them now and human convention had long since been lost on both of them. Humans were capable of spending their lives with one person. Vampires couldn't have that. Spend enough time with someone and even their smallest flaws become irreconcilable with greater truths. Vampires didn't stay with the same person forever. Katherine had probably known that when she didn't come back for Damon. Now he has to learn that the only way one does. The hard way.

She's known love in her lifetime, many times, each man equally unique, some of them human, most of them vampires. But none of them last, not in the human meaning of the word. Vampires have other ways of maintaining long-lasting relationships. In a vampire's life, the saying _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ is given new meaning. She has a handful of lovers that she sees every now and again, but none that she stays with. She's pretty sure she doesn't even want that with Damon. But she knows that she doesn't want him to become _just_ another lover either.

There's so much going on in her head, that the sound of her tires popping only reaches her when it's too late. Amelia hits the brakes hard, and the car comes to an abrupt halt, the rims of the wheels screeching metallically on the concrete road. What in the hell just happened? Tires don't just pop by themselves. She stumbles out of the car, looking at the deflated tire on her side; it's completely wrecked. She turns around and examines the road.

It's then that she notices the spikes; Amelia goes through her knees and picks up one of the tiny metal stingers scattered across the road. Someone had to have put them there. Were they meant for her? She gets up fast and turns around, intent on getting back in her car, but just then something hard strikes her shoulder, penetrating her skin until it hits bone. Her knees buckle and then her legs are gone from under her; she tumbles to the ground. It's only when she's back-down on the concrete that she manages to look at the wooden stake now protruding her shoulder.

"AH!" she exclaims overtly dramatic, the pain now cutting through her in pulsating waves, and she takes hold of the stake drenched in her blood. Where in hell did that come from?

"Leave it." The threat is accompanied by the tread of boots, and the cocking of a gun she's never seen before. Before her eyes have a chance to focus properly, Alaric Saltzman has placed the high-pressure toy gun against her chest, right above her un-beating heart. If it had beat, Amelia imagines it would be racing.

"Mr Saltzman," Amelia says, settling her head back on the concrete, but doesn't let go of the stake in her shoulder. She'd been skewed by wooden stakes before, but methods for delivery of said stakes were definitely getting more sophisticated. "What can I do for you that you couldn't ask me nicely?" she asks, wincing in pain as she shift slightly on the ground. This is a very uncomfortable position.

"Did you turn Elena?" Alaric asks, not relinquishing the clear advantageous position he has over Amelia now. If she tells him what he needs, he'll kill her. She's just another one of them after all. But Amelia frowns at him. Is it an act, or does she really not know what he's talking about? "Jeremy Gilbert thinks his sister is a vampire," he explains.

Amelia rolls her eyes. Of course. "He must have run into Katherine," she says, but gets a frown from Alaric in return. She admits, she doesn't know exactly how it's possible either. "Elena is her spitting image. But I guarantee you that Elena is still very much human. Stefan would never let anything happen to her."

That much Alaric believes to be true. Stefan Salvatore is not like his brother, or this woman on the ground beneath him. "Who's Katherine?" he asks.

"The great love of Damon's life." His _human_ life.

"What about you?" Alaric asks curiously, a whole new array of questions and opportunities opening before him. If he kills this one, will Damon feel the pain he felt after losing Isabel? "You seem to be pretty close to him."

Amelia snickers, and thinks that really depends on one's definition of the word _close_. "I made him a vampire," she answers. "That's all."

Alaric flexes his arm, stake pointed straight at Amelia's heart. "I should kill you," he says. Who would miss one vampire? The world would be safer without her in it. And if it's a chance to make Damon hurt, _really_ hurt, he'll gladly take it.

"Go ahead," Amelia mutters, starting to feel light-headed from the blood loss. Alaric eyes go wide in question. She wants to die? "I came here once to die," she explains. In 1864 she came here to die in that church, to burn alongside the other vampires in Mystic Falls. In hindsight, she got the better end of that bargain. "Would be strangely poetic to have it end here." She wonders if anyone will miss her.

Alaric stares down at her, and takes in a breath. "Get up," he sighs. If he kills her, he imagines he'll get on Stefan's bad side too. Right now, Stefan is the only one standing between Damon and him. Amelia scrambles up from the ground unsteadily, her knees shaking as she leans back against the car, breathing heavily.

Amelia grabs the stake in her shoulder tightly, oozing blood, and gives it one hard pull. She feels the joint in her shoulder snap back into place; this time she bites through the pain. The stake hits the ground in a dull thud. Amelia braces herself against the car, feeling her body slowly but surely heal itself. She'll need to feed for it to heal completely. She should rip this guy's head off, she thinks to herself, but she knows that won't go over well with the locals, or Stefan.

"You've got to tell me one thing," Alaric says, and stands back. "How can you walk around in the sunlight?" Amelia stares at him blankly. "What? You don't trust me?" Alaric adds. She wonders where his car is, or if he walked all the way out here to wait for her. Had he known she would try to leave town? He's already shown her he has no intention of killing her; maybe making casual conversation at this point is only polite.

"Lapis lazuli," she answers, liking the feel of the words tumbling from her lips.

"The stone?" Alaric frowns. He's read about it, of course, he is after all a history teacher, and he knows the Ancient Egyptians and even the Romans used it in their jewellery.

Amelia's still leaning back against the hood of her car with one elbow, but she manages to remove the turquoise ring from her ring finger. "It's embedded in the ring." She tosses it over to Alaric; he studies it closely. It's as simple as that? A stone? He stares from Amelia's ring, to his own, and is suddenly reminded how Isabel had told him his would protect him. He never had figured out against what. "As long as we wear it, the sun can't harm us," Amelia continues.

Alaric looks at her questioningly, turning the ring over in his hands, watching how the light from the sun above them plays on the silver encasing. He guesses she doesn't trust him enough to tell him the truth after all. If the ring protects her, then what's protecting her now? It only hits him then. "The tattoo," he realises, remembering what materials were used in tattoos as old as hers. "It's real then?" he asks.

Amelia has to admit she's impressed. He just put two and two together real fast. It also means he's been watching her. What else has he been up to that she doesn't know about? "Yes," is all she answers. She figures she's shared enough secrets for now, as a thank you for sparing her life. Next time he tries something like this, he might not get so lucky. She doesn't kill humans for feeding anymore, but she won't hesitate to do so when one of them threatens her life, or her loved ones.

Just like everyone else that finds out something like this about her, about the lapis lazuli and Amelia's tattoo, Alaric wonders how old she is. But he knows he's worn out his welcome for now; he's gotten everything he can out of her. Soon, she'll be at full strength again and he hopes that somewhere she will find the same mercy Stefan had given him gratuitously. Amelia seems like a whole different kind of animal. "Sorry about the tires," he says, but still walks away, into the trees lining both sides of the road.

Amelia looks back down at her tires; they're completely wrecked. She could call Triple-A to get her car towed back into town, but she imagines that will raise a whole lot of questions she doesn't care to answer right now. So she shifts the car into gear, and pushes it to the side of the road. She decides to go hunting for something first, gather up her strength, and then she'll see about replacing the tires. She consciously decides not to call Stefan or Damon; she can take care of herself.

She suddenly realises she's not too far from the old Fell's Church, or the place where she met Stefan and Damon all those years ago. Since she's going into the woods anyway, it won't hurt to take a trip down memory lane. Like she told Alaric earlier, it's rather poetic to end her trip here, in the same place her very first visit to Mystic Falls had started. It's possible that she'll never return here. Maybe Katherine and Damon will find a way to make things work, who knows, maybe this world will surprise her yet. It's not her place to stand between Damon and his happiness, regardless of her feelings for him, or the way she feels towards Katherine.

And so there she stands, in the same place she'd joined Damon's side all those years ago, asking him who Katherine was. Everything, he'd said, she was everything. It's curious to her now how in his stead she never could have given him that same answer. Damon wasn't everything to her. But he was something, someone she needed in her life, to keep going, to keep living. If faced with the same choice again, she'd turn him again. Maybe because he did hold some kind of power over her, maybe because deep down, she hadn't wanted to die. Maybe Damon had been her excuse. But she knows that's reducing Damon to something far lesser than what he really is.

Her boots rustle the pine-shed needles and cones on the ground as she makes her way towards the church. She's curious about this tomb Stefan had told her about, the same tomb Katherine should have been in. The same tomb that had been Damon's reason for being for so long. There's a little stone staircase that leads down under the church; she descends it slowly, her hands brushing the cold stones lining her path. But she halts clean in her tracks. She sees the pentangle carved into the stone door, but the door is open. This can't be right, Amelia thinks, Stefan told her Bonnie and her grandmother had closed it up again.

There's a fear in her heart that prevents her from entering the dark recesses of the tomb, but her senses tell her that there's not a single vampire down there anymore. How did they get out? Where have they gone? There were supposed to be twenty-something vampires down there, but now the tomb was empty. Could it be that they skipped town? Could it be that easy? Or was that just wishful thinking?

Her mind is racing a million miles an hour as she climbs the short stairs again. When she makes it upstairs again, the forest air clearing her head, there's company waiting for her. Vampires; about twenty-something of them. "How strange," Amelia starts, realising that she's completely surrounded with no way to go. Maybe talking will keep them from tearing her apart, "I was just down there, wondering where everyone had gone, and here you all are." She looks around the circle, noticing one woman in particular, who seems to be leading them. "You're all looking pretty good after being down there for so long."

They also look far too good for them not to be feeding off human blood. "We've been gathering our strength," the woman answers. She's joined by a younger vampire; Anna, Amelia assumes. That makes her mother Pearl.

"Right," Amelia nods, looking for any gaps in the lines. She might be able to get away, if she's fast enough, but she's not at full strength and there are so many of them. "I'll just be off then." She runs, but two vampires grab her arms before she manages to break through the circle. They're strong; they must indeed be feeding on human blood.

"We can't let you go," Pearl says softly. Amelia can sense she's old, but by far not old enough to defeat her in a fight. But then, with an army at hand, who would fight? "Not now that you know about us."

Amelia doesn't struggle against the men restraining her, she's too busy looking for any weapons on the ground. The ground is riddled with broken branches. Just one of those can cause the kind of distraction she needs to get out of there. "Personally I'd be more worried about Katherine," Amelia says, Pearl frowning. Amelia wonders if that is because she doesn't know Katherine is there, or because she doesn't know what Katherine is doing. "Wasn't it her hanky-panky with the Salvatore brothers that got you into this mess in the first place? Two guesses where she is now."

Something resembling realisation dawns in Pearl's eyes. So she knows Katherine is in town. Are they working together? "We still can't let you go."

Amelia figures that talking won't get her anywhere. So she looks at the vampire to her left, and gazes into his eyes. "_Let me go_," she compels him, and his hold on her is gone almost instantly. That'll show them. Anyone knows that a vampire that's strong enough to compel others like them is a force to be reckoned with. She looks at Pearl strongly. "Let me go, and you'll go unharmed," Amelia says strongly. She knows she can't compel all of them, or stands a chance to fight all of them with her strength not at maximum.

"You can't take all of us," Pearl says. Just what Amelia had been afraid off. "Harper." Another vampire breaks the circle and makes his way towards her. Amelia elbows her attacker in the stomach, grabs his head between both hands, and snaps his neck. She snatches a branch from the forest floor, and forces it into another vampire's chest. In all the commotion and fear that ensues, Amelia makes a run for it.

"Call Katherine," Pearl tells Anna, while she watches Amelia rush away in the distance. Katherine had failed to mention she'd gone around to see the Salvatores again, and that they had a house guest powerful enough to compel other vampires. Katherine would pay for that.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**

**i've come to realise i really like saying _lapis lazuli_ :) anyway, in case anyone was wondering, the stone can be ground into a dark blue dye, that could conceivably have been used as a pigment in Amelia's tattoo. fun fact: Queen Cleopatra also used the dye as eyeshadow. no kidding.**


	9. Survival Of The Fittest

**author's notes:** sorry for the insanely long wait you guys! i've been up to my neck in academic papers, and my internship, and i haven't found a whole lot of time to write. hope you can forgive me for the wait! please read & review! -- i added some pictures to my profile for visuals on Amelia -- setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 9: survival of the fittest

* * *

She knows that going back to the mansion isn't a good option; if Katherine is there, and if Katherine is working with Pearl, she'll only alarm the younger vampire to her knowledge. But Amelia realises she doesn't have anywhere else to go. Her shirt is still torn and bloody from where the wooden stake hit her shoulder, and she feels her strength diminishing by the minute. She has no other place to go. So she runs, fast, hoping to find Damon or Stefan before meeting Katherine. She'd have questions at the sight of her.

But instead of finding either of her boys, she finds Elena just exiting the mansion, her bag of clothes in tow. "Amelia," Elena exclaims when she looks at her. Her eyes go wide when she sees Amelia's bloodied shirt. Has she been in a fight?

"Where are Stefan and Damon?" Amelia asks immediately, before allowing Elena another word of concern. There are more pressing matters to attend to. Pearl and the other vampires are out of the tomb, and they know they've been discovered. Amelia can't predict what they'll do, but something tells her it won't bode well for her, Damon and his brother, or this town.

"They're out for a drink." Elena says, putting her bag in the trunk of her car and closing the door. Amelia guesses that she was just on her way home to wash some clothes.

"Together?" Amelia asks automatically, because she's not used to hearing things like that. Who would have guessed? "Never mind that." Amelia shakes her head before Elena gets the chance to answer. "The Grill?" she asks, and Elena merely nods in response. It's only then that Amelia realises something in this picture is missing. "Wait, where's Katherine?" she frowns.

"She got a phone call, and went out," Elena explains, but fear strikes her hard when she sees Amelia's eyes riddle with worry. What is it now? Can't she ever have a calm day? It's not enough that she almost watched Stefan die yesterday? "Is something wrong?" she adds.

Amelia looks at her urgently. "You have to come with me. Now," she commands, and gets in the car. She's not going to let Elena out of her sight until she knows exactly what's going on. And then there's the little fact that Elena's brother thinks his sister is a vampire. She wonders if she should bring that up at all right now.

"Where are we going?" Elena asks once she's taken a seat behind the wheel, already starting up the car.

"I'm going to convince Damon that the love of his life has raised an army of vampires that want revenge on this town." Amelia knows how it sounds, but something tells her Elena has no problems believing it. Elena hates Katherine just as much as she does, and trusts her even less.

"Is that all?" Elena deadpans.

Is that enough, Amelia wonder briefly, but pushes the thought from her mind.

* * *

The sun has gone down by the time she finds the house. She's pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and stolen some of Elena's clothing when the girl wasn't looking. It's so easy to fool humans sometimes, Katherine thinks.

She presses the bell with determination. She knows exactly why she's here, and what she's about to do. Pearl mentioned on the phone that she needed Amelia taken care off; Katherine figures this was one way of hitting two birds in one stone, without it being traced back to her. Or without her having to go up against an extremely powerful vampire. It's delightful how life – or death – works out sometimes.

Much to her further delight, it's the brother that opens the door. "Elena?" Jeremy's eyes go wide upon seeing her. "What are you doing here?" What is going on? Was she here to kill him? Has she, or some other vampire around her, figured out what he knew? But the thing in front of him has tears in her eyes, and for a moment he doesn't know what to believe anymore. This look so much like Elena.

"Jeremy," Katherine says, voice shaking, "I need your help," she adds, and a tear runs solemnly down her cheek. The act comes as easy to her as any other lie. "There's something I need to tell you."

* * *

He finds Damon at his usual spot at the bar, signature glass of bourbon in hand, sitting far from any other more cheerful patrons. He'd seen Elena off at the house about ten minutes ago; she'd told him to go see his brother and make sure he was okay. Just like Katherine, Elena had easily noticed that Damon had been affected by Amelia's words. He'd never really thought his brother capable of love – maybe obsession at the most – but he never expected Damon to take this so hard. After all, he has Katherine back.

He walks over to the bar casually, and sits down on the stool next to his brother. "Coffee," he says, the bartender leaving them be while he fetches the drink. "I thought you'd be with Katherine," he tells his brother, glancing at him sideways.

"I thought you'd be with Elena," Damon retorts, not looking at him. He raises his glass to his lips, but feels Stefan's eyes on him. "Are you worried about me?" he asks, finally looking at Stefan. "That's nice. Don't be. I'm _fine_," he stresses. "Why wouldn't I be? I've got Katherine back, and..." he doesn't know what to say. He sets his glass back down on the bar, and stares out in front of him blankly.

"Yes, that's why you're here getting drunk," Stefan says, leaning his arms down on the bar. "Because you're so happy to have Katherine back." He can't say the thought of Damon leaving with Katherine hadn't crossed his mind. But now, if his brother truly cared for Amelia, the one woman who had in fact always been there for him, then maybe this was Damon's chance to change. Amelia might not be the kind of vampire that respects human life the way he does, or has shed all her animal instincts, but she'd be better for Damon than Katherine will ever be.

"I don't think I like your tone, _brother_," Damon says gravely. Yes, he's hurt, of course he's hurt, his own creator had told him earlier today what a nuisance he had always been to her. He knows he'd let his guard down when she first arrived. He'd gotten into that tomb, hadn't found Katherine, and had learned that she'd known where he was all this time. He'd let his guard down when he'd allowed Amelia to pick up the pieces. He was the fool.

"She didn't mean what she said," Stefan says, but Damon doesn't want to hear it. "You know that, right?" Stefan insists. He doesn't know if he understands Amelia's motifs, but he's certain that she had her reasons. She knows Damon better than anyone, especially the vampire inside him. Maybe she felt it was time Damon knew the truth, now that Katherine was back. Maybe she even feels like somehow she's lost him.

"Amelia is... in the past," Damon sighs, not altogether sure whether it even matters. History is different for vampires, especially one as old as Amelia. "I'm moving on with my life." He looks at Stefan, but all his brother does is stare at him hard, the way only Stefan can. There's an accusation in his eyes.

"She loves you," Stefan insists. That much he knows; Amelia has always cared about Damon, more than she ever cared for him. They were bound by blood, and maybe even more.

Damon returns his focus on his glass. "Maybe," he says. He doesn't know anything anymore. He's not sure he cares anymore.

"Maybe?" Stefan asks, eyebrows raised and leans in close to his brother. How can he not see this? Is he really that blind? "Damon, if you're ever going to trust anything in your life, trust _that_." Damon looks at him, but keeps silent. Stefan knows he's getting through to him. "Amelia loves you."

Damon opens his mouth to say something, but once again he doesn't know what he means to say. So what if she loves him, obviously her love doesn't run deep enough to stick around for him, to fight for him. She just left, just like Katherine hadn't come for him all those years. Maybe he isn't meant to get either women.

"Stefan," Amelia's voice is there, right there in the Grill, and both brothers turn to face her.

"Speak of the devil," Damon grimaces.

"Stefan, you need to be with Elena," Amelia says, without taking notice of Damon's tone, of the bottle of bourbon on the bar where Damon was sitting. There's much more important things to think about right now.

"Why?" Stefan asks, calm as ever, noticing that Amelia is wearing Elena's jacket to cover up her own blood-stained shirt. "What happened to you?" he frowns. Damon takes a step closer, but doesn't comment on anything. Somewhere deep inside it worries him that Amelia got hurt, but he's much too proud to admit to it.

"That's nothing." Amelia shakes her head, and looks around. She realises all too well that the bar is full of people, and so she lowers her voice. She doesn't need anyone else to hear this. "We've got bigger problems. The tomb, it's open."

"What?" Damon asks briskly. "That's impossible."

"I saw it." Amelia glares at Damon. She knows she deserves every word of it, but right now she really needs him to hear her clearly. "And then I ran into Anna and mommy dearest. You say Katherine got a call." Amelia turns to Elena. "Do you know from who?"

"No." Elena shakes her head, and tries to follow Amelia's train of thought. She got cornered by Pearl and the other vampires down in the tomb, and then Katherine got a phone call. Did she have anything to do with that? "You don't think..." Elena is afraid to say it aloud, fearing what Damon might say or think.

"I think I got in their way," Amelia answers, and turns around to walk away. There are too many people around to discuss this properly, and part of her is aching for a bite; her body still has some healing to do, and she needs to garner strength.

"Maybe you should leave town," Damon says as they push through the door, Elena and Stefan following closely behind. "Oh wait, isn't that what you were doing anyway?" They come to a halt on the sidewalk just outside the bar.

"She can't leave," Elena intercedes fast. "You can't leave," she looks at Amelia, panic in her eyes. She just went through the most horrible few days in her entire life, almost losing Stefan to a poison her own town elders put in the water, and now there were vampires that had it out for Amelia, and very possibly Stefan and Damon as well. Will it never end? Will she live her entire life in fear of losing Stefan? She realises how incredibly surreal it all sounds. "What if Pearl decides she wants revenge?"

"So what if she does?" Damon shrugs callously, even though he suspects that Amelia might be right about all of this. Katherine had already been in town, and her and Pearl were best friends. There's no way the two hadn't been in contact. "It's not like this town doesn't deserve it. And what do you expect us to do? We can't take them all."

"He's got a point." Amelia crosses her arms over her chest. It would be better if they just left, at least that way she wouldn't have to watch, or face the possibility of losing someone she loved again. It would be safer if Stefan and Damon came with her, somewhere far away from this town. This town had always held too much danger for any vampire.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Elena asks, her heart beating fast in her chest.

"I'm not leaving," Stefan says determinedly, and pulls Elena closer to him.

"Stefan, Pearl alone is capable of ripping you to pieces," Amelia stresses, and takes a step closer to him. She knows that his love for Elena runs deep, but he has to think about himself too. If he dies, Elena won't survive either. "It's too dangerous to stay here."

"My place is here," Stefan says, and looks Amelia in the eyes. Elena looks at Stefan, and then at Amelia, at the silence between them that somehow manages to speak volumes. She fears what could happen to Stefan if he stays, she fears what could happen to the entire town if he leaves. "Where do you think they're staying?" Stefan asks next.

"So that you can _what_?" Damon interrupts, astounded by his brother's stupidity. He feeds of animal blood, even if he was older than any of the vampires in that tomb, he wouldn't be able to take them. "Go burn the house down?"

Amelia is still looking at Stefan. She can see in his eyes that there is no way she can persuade him to leave with her. It leaves her with an impossible situation. If she stays, she might have to watch him die, or might die herself. If she leaves, she'll forever live with the knowledge that she could have saved him. The right choice is blatantly obvious. "Somewhere in the woods," she answers, Damon staring at her incredulously. He knows that Amelia just made up her mind as well; she's not one to linger too long on these things. "I can go take a look, see if I can pick up their scent. You get Elena somewhere safe first."

Stefan nods at her briefly, almost as if they conducted an entire conversation just inside their minds. They're alike that way; they know how to protect their loved ones properly.

"You... what?" Damon asks when Stefan and Amelia are already walking away in opposite directions. Damon sighs, but follows Amelia. "Mel, there are over twenty vampires somewhere out there. It's not your job to protect this town." She must see that. She doesn't owe this town anything, least of all the people in it.

"It's my job to protect you and your brother." Amelia doesn't stop, or even looks up at Damon. He's always known that she cares more for them than any vampire really should, and suddenly he's starting to suspect that it's one of her main goals in life. "If he chooses to stay, I'm staying too." But for his brother? A man she has no allegiance to whatsoever. It always comes down to this; he shares Amelia with his brother. "This is not up for discussion." She talks as if she reads his mind. In a way, she's always been able to. "What are you doing?" Amelia asks once she realises Damon is following her into the woods.

"I'm coming with you," he answers. It's as much a surprise to him as it is to Amelia. But he can't let her walk into that forest, knowing that there's a possibility she might not walk out of it alive. After all, she's hurt; he can tell she's not at her full strength. "How's your shoulder?" He can't help but ask. They could be walking to their deaths right now if they're discovered.

"Nothing a little blood won't fix," Amelia answers in short, setting a steady pace for them.

Damon keeps a few feet behind her, watching how every few seconds Amelia touches her shoulder, rubbing at the already healed-over-again skin. He imagines her shirt is irritating her skin; she'll need to feed for that to go away entirely. He wonders briefly how he'd gotten himself in this situation again. And then he's reminded of something Katherine had said earlier. She told him that the bond between a vampire and his creator is artificial, but more and more he's starting to doubt the accuracy of anything that came out of her mouth. He knows he has a bond with Amelia that is hard to put into words, but that's not _just_ because she turned him.

"Do you love me?" he blurts out, against his better judgement, against everything he's been trying to tell himself since she called him a monster to his face. He knows he's a monster, but that doesn't mean he needs to be reminded. Not by her.

"What?" Amelia whirls around and utters the word in one action, staring at him wide-eyed, eyes riddled with confusion. "Is this really the most appropriate time to discuss this?" Why is he asking this of her now? This is probably the most important question he will ever ask her, at the most inappropriate time. "I'm not having this conversation." Amelia turns around again determinedly, but Damon blocks her path before she has a chance to blink. She sighs, defeated. "Damon, please."

"What?" Damon looks at her strongly, blue eyes piercing. "Suddenly you don't have anything to say to me?"

"What do you want me to say?" Amelia throws up her arms in desperation. Can she really admit to loving him utterly and completely? Does she really love him like that? Or is it something much more crucial and life-affirming? "Yes, I love you more than anything in this world?" she makes it a question, and Damon's heart blossoms and falters all at the same time. She's not taking him seriously. Has he done so little to convince her of his worth? "Let's run away together and have eternity? That's not how it works, Damon. People like us don't get the happily ever after."

"That why you left?" Damon asks, insistent to be point where he knows that whatever comes out of her mouth next could potentially break him forever. "Because Katherine and me won't work out anyway? I would have thought you'd enjoy watching everything fall apart."

His words hit Amelia painfully hard. Does he really think that little of her? Is he really too blind to see a good thing when it's right in front of him? But she already knows the answer to that; Katherine had once corrupted him to the point where there was only her. Damon doesn't know where to place anyone else in his life. Not even his own brother. "I don't enjoy seeing you get hurt," Amelia says softly, "If you and Katherine work it out, then I couldn't be happier for you." But something in Damon's eyes tells her he doesn't even believe that. "I've... I've grown tired of this world, Damon. I don't understand it anymore."

He thinks she's only making excuses at this point. "Why did you turn me?" he sneers, remembering vividly how he'd woken up in that meadow, devoid of vervain blossoms. She was by his side then, and he understood her completely. He knew without asking what she had granted him. "If you're this tired of everything, why don't you just..." and then it hits him, like pieces of a century-old puzzle falling into place, of countless of decades where she sought him out, surrendering to him, of the tears in her eyes – the first he'd ever seen in those green eyes – when he said goodbye to her. She came to Mystic Falls to die, but turned him instead.

Those same tears are in Amelia's eyes now. "Because I need..." she takes a crucial breath of air, "I _need_ you, Damon," she says, jaw clenched tight to keep herself together.

"WHY?" he yells, his voice reverberating in the suddenly stone-cold forest. He refuses to allow his sorrow to touch the surface right now. "To scratch your itch every few decades? Do you get off on seeing me like this?" Amelia knows what he means; it breaks her heart to know he doesn't see his own worth in all this. "Is that what you and Stefan talk about behind my back!?" Damon knows his anger is getting the best of him, but he can't help it; Amelia has this way of getting to him.

"I need you to affirm my own existence!" Amelia shouts, too, tired of explaining this, tired of coming back to this point in her existence time and time again. He doesn't see, he doesn't understand, because he hasn't lived it. But she's seen too many things. "I wasn't kidding when I told you that you keep me alive." Damon is breathing heavily when his eyes find hers again. He doesn't know what to believe anymore, even though he desperately wants to put truth to her words. "I find you, time and time again, to make sure I don't turn to stone," Amelia continues, and takes a step closer to him. "For some reason, Damon, that passes me by entirely, you're the one that gives this black rock in my chest meaning. Just you."

"Well, that's just..." Damon looks away from her and takes a breath. He doesn't know what to say to that. He gets it now, really he does, but he's got his pride. "... _peachy_."

"_Peachy?_" Amelia's eyes go wide in question. That's not the answer she'd been hoping for. "That's..." but before she has the chance to say anything, something hits her in her back; another stake hits the same shoulder, piercing her skin. "AH!" she exclaims, much in the same way as a few hours ago, but this one really hurts, cuts through her like vervain or sunlight would hurt her. Why is everyone shooting her today?

Before she has the change to react, her eyes pick up on another stake flying past her, aimed straight for Damon's leg. Who is doing this to them now? She can guess, but it seems too merciless. She wants to turn around, but her strength had already been considerably drained; she goes to her knees without even trying to remain upright. Amelia suddenly realises that the stakes that hit her and Damon are drenched in vervain; that must have been why her previous wounds had been bothering her as well. Clever, yet so very unfortunate.

She waits for the footsteps behind her to come to a standstill, but she sees one pair of legs passing her, another halts by her side. When she looks up, she sees Alaric standing next to Damon, and she herself is staring up into two deep-brown eyes. "Jeremy," Amelia breaths, her mind racing to find a reason to have deserved this from him. She hasn't done anything to harm him, in fact, she'd probably saved him from Damon's wrath just a few days before. "What are you doing?" she asks, grabbing for her shoulder again, the stake protruding from her back sending pulses of pain through her entire body.

"You hurt Elena," Jeremy answers, his hand forming tightly around the next stake that's meant for her. Meant for her heart. "You turned her into..." He can't even say it. It had been so hard to see Elena sit there, on the bench on their front porch. She'd asked him not to invite her in, afraid that she might hurt someone. But she'd told him the truth about who turned her into a vampire.

"What?" Amelia looks up at Jeremy desperately. How can he possibly think that? Who could have put that thought in his mind? Amelia realises quickly there's only person who could have. _Katherine_. She must have pretended to be Elena, and with the resemblance between them, anyone could have been fooled. "I didn't touch your sister!" Amelia shouts, her vision blurring. She's losing too much blood. Soon she won't have any strength left. "Please, Jeremy, listen to me..."

Damon had no idea what was going on, but he's quick to put things together. Who else but Katherine could have convinced Jeremy Elena was a vampire? He can't believe this.

"No!" Jeremy shouts, and moves to stand behind her. He won't listen to anything else this thing has to say to him. He won't let her in his head again. Who knows what she could put in there if he allows her to talk him down. "No more talking. You killed her, and now I'm going to kill you."

Amelia wants to protest, but then Jeremy's arm is around her throat, his body pressing up against the stake in her shoulder, and a blind white-hot pain sears through her body. She has to squeeze her eyes shut against the crushing weight, and she breaths through clenched teeth. She's stronger than this, she tells herself, and manages to look at Alaric through pain-riddled eyes. "You bastard," she shakes her head imperceptibly, but Alaric gives no response at all. She explained it to him, about how Katherine looked like Elena, but he hadn't bothered explaining any of it to Jeremy.

She looks at Damon, forced down by Alaric. She knows that not even Damon will be fast enough to safe her now, not with the stake in his leg. So this is it, she thinks, this is how it ends. She can't say she has any regrets. Damon looks at her, his eyes filled with concern, blue to the point where they're almost ice. If he manages to survive this, this town won't know what hit it. He'll kill everyone.

"I'm the one who killed your sister," Damon says suddenly. He realises all too well there's nothing that will convince Jeremy right now that Elena is still human. Better then to have Jeremy angry at someone who deserves it.

"What?" Amelia looks at him, distress setting into every pore in her body. No, he can't do this to her, not here, not now. He can't willingly sacrifice himself for her. She won't survive if she's forced to watch him die. "Damon, no," she shakes her head, but already feels Jeremy's hold on her loosening. "I'm the one who turned her," she says, but then Jeremy's arm is gone, and he takes a few steps away from her. Gravity pulls her to the forest floor, the world spinning around her. "Jeremy, don't listen to a word he says," her voice cracks.

"Shut up!" Jeremy shouts. He looks at Alaric, but his history teacher only hits Damon in the face, and he falls down just like Amelia. What's going on here? He doesn't know what to believe anymore.

"I drained her dry, Jeremy," Damon continues, his lip bleeding, but a devious smile creeps across his lips nonetheless. "Just like I drained Vicky."

"Damon!" Amelia shouts, trying to get to him, but even Alaric seems to realise she'll never make it. She hasn't got the strength, but she won't do this again. She won't stand by helplessly and watch someone she loves die. Memories flash before her eyes, too vividly, of her brothers going into battle in armour that was too big for them, of her little sister being trampled by horses. She won't let this happen to her again, no, not like this, not Damon. Not now that it's within her power to stop all this.

"What?" Jeremy frowns, and stares at Damon blankly. What about Vicky? She left town weeks ago. She left him willingly. Right? "Vicky..." he breaths, and shakes his head. This is all too confusing; it's worse enough to know that Elena will never be the same again.

"She's dead," Damon stresses. He leans up on one elbow, realising that Alaric won't allow him to get up again, or to remove the stake in his leg. The thing freaking hurts; it must be drenched in vervain. "I partied with her first, feisty little thing that one," he continues, raising his eyebrows. "_Very_ good in the sack."

What happens next passes in a blur. "DAMON!" Amelia screams when she sees Jeremy lunging – stake first – towards Damon, his last words sparking an anger inside of Jeremy he didn't even know he possessed. She's struggling furiously to get up, gathering every single ounce of strength left in her body, her arms manage to support her and then she's standing, running, hurrying towards Damon, and throws herself between Jeremy and Damon, and...

"NO!" Damon shouts, the word spun out long and hard when he sees the stake enter Amelia's body, right below her sternum, piercing right down to her heart. She releases one gasp of air, and falls down right into his arms. He's paralyzed when he feels the dead weight of her on top of him, his hands sweeping her hair from her face, her eyes still open. No no no, not like this, not without her knowing. He can't lose her like this. "Mel..." he breaths.

Amelia stares up at him, her eyes fluttering shut, the darkness beckoning her closer already. "_Run_," she whispers, and there's not one thought in Damon's mind that considers disobeying her. Alaric is already moving towards him, ready to kill him, and he doesn't have the strength to fight off both him and Jeremy. So he runs, as fast as his leg can carry him, still faster than human legs, and leaves Amelia, dead in the brown wet leaves, without ever telling her how much he truly loves her.

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**if you can, please let me know what you think!**

**(PS: please don't kill me? i promise i'll make it worth your while...)  
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	10. Hold My Heart

**author's notes:** hee, this chapter is a little more graphic, in uhm, places. sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger. that said i should probably apologize in advance for the next one :) still hope you all enjoy! thanks so much for everyone commenting! please read & review! -- i added some pictures to my profile for visuals on Amelia -- setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

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**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 10: hold my heart

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**1864**

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There's a dead human body at her feet, and Amelia stares down at it with a melancholic curiosity. The woman has been drained dry of any blood, but that's not what interests her now. There are four tiny puncture marks in her neck, from where two pairs of fangs sliced through her skin greedily. She'd known long before either of the Salvatore brothers woke up that they wouldn't chose death; she just never could have guessed that it would be the youngest to break first.

It was Stefan that had lead the young woman here, pleading with Damon, telling him how much stronger he was now, how there was a vast world out there they hadn't even dreamed about. Just like Katherine had told them. Amelia stood by in silence; they were brothers after all, and she made no claim to either of them. She stood by as Damon tasted his first drop of human blood, completing the transformation she had set in motion the day before. He was complete now.

And then the strangest thing happened, further proof that she was now living in a world that's slipping away from her in meaning. Damon tells his brother that he'll make his life a living hell. Amelia's not sure she understands what that's about. She joins him by the riverside, following his blank stare out towards the waterfalls. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice calm.

"Strong," he answers, eyes not seeking hers. He's not entirely sure how he's supposed to answer her question now that he can feel so much. He feels everything stronger, yet he thinks that if he tries, he could switch of that humanity easily. "Stronger than ever." He hesitates for a few moments longer, but licks his lips then, and turns to her. She looks more out of time than she does out of place, a serenity about her that he guesses only time will grant him. "Why did you turn me?" he asks softly.

She answers almost immediately; it's not the entire truth, and she suspects it will be decades before she can admit that to him. "It didn't seem right to see you punished for loving a monster." A monster, just like her.

"Katherine wasn't a monster," Damon says.

_Exactly_, she means to say, but she knows that's the vampire in her speaking. In any real human terms, what Katherine did to these boys would be considered monstrous. "Is that why you chose to hate your brother instead?" Amelia asks. He loves Katherine still, and that won't change any time soon. But he must see it now, after having gained a second chance. Katherine choose to turn Stefan, not him. "Because it's easier?"

"It was supposed to be me. Just me." There are tears in his eyes. "They took her from me before she could make that happen."

Poor boy, Amelia thinks, but doesn't say a word, for fear of confusing or aggravating him further. He has a thing or two to learn about vampire life before giving over to his anger and hate. She leaves him to his sorrow.

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**NOW**

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Caroline's hands move underneath his shirt, pushing the white fabric aside. Matt smiles at her determination to get him naked right there in her bed, and kisses her, his own hand moving under her blue blouse. The door to Caroline's bedroom opens before he has a chance to get off her.

"Caroline..." Sheriff Forbes walks into the room, unsuspecting, but halts in her tracks and turns her head once she sees her daughter and Matt Donovan in a compromising position. "Oh, good God," she exclaims, but forces herself to stay calm. Matt obviously makes her daughter happy, and anything else she's previously done or said had only made her daughter mad.

"Mom!" Caroline shouts, pushing Matt off her and straightening her blouse. She can't believe this. "Ever hear of knocking?"

"Sheriff Forbes, I can explain," Matt tries, but Caroline's mom puts out a hand to shut him up.

"Please," the sheriff shakes her head, keeping her eyes averted from the scene in front of her. If she says anything now, there's no knowing what Caroline will do to retaliate. And with vampires out there, she much prefers knowing exactly what Caroline is up to. She's old enough, and Matt is a decent boy. "I'll be out combing the woods with the rest of the Council." And their new vampire expert. "Just... lock all the doors and windows, will you?" she adds, and closes the door to Caroline's bedroom behind her.

"Did she just..." Matt frowns, Caroline staring at the door as well.

"Go lock the window." Caroline looks back at Matt. He gets up and closes the window shut, Caroline already getting under the covers of her bed. "... and get in here," she adds.

* * *

Elena pushes her way through the front door of the Salvatore boarding house. She can feel Stefan behind her; he hasn't said a word the entire ride up here. She knows that means he's worrying, about her, about the town and everyone in it. Part of her wishes she could carry that burden with him; part of her knows she already does, without having to try. So there's an entire army of vampires out there that has it in for Mystic Falls and every person in it. Including Stefan and Damon.

"I still think I should take you home," Stefan says, closing the door behind him. Elena looks at him, but refrains from saying anything. They're both on edge. "Katherine or Pearl can't touch you there." He has a point, and he knows it. Any vampire can wander into this house now that no human is living here anymore, but she's safe from any unwanted guests at home.

"We'll wait for Amelia," Elena says, and crosses her arms over her chest. "I can't just sit at home and not know what's going on." Stefan wants to tell her she's being stubborn, but knows that won't get him anywhere either. So he makes his way towards her, and puts his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. But he stays quiet. "What's wrong?" Elena's voice breaks through the silence.

Katherine is what's wrong, he means to say, Katherine in the same town as Elena, Katherine on the loose, Katherine _alive_. Things were far easier when he believed Katherine to be down in that tomb, dead. It used to make him sleep more soundly. He imagines that won't be happening again any time soon.

Before he has a chance to say anything though, someone storms through the front door, dropping down on the floor in pain. "Damon?" Elena frowns, and moves free from Stefan's embrace. Then she sees his leg bleeding. "Damon!" she shouts this time, and runs over to him. She goes to her knees next to Damon, while he's in the process of sitting up against the wall.

"Damon. What happened?" Stefan asks.

Damon looks up at his brother very slowly, feeling tears sting his eyes, despair hitting him like a tidal wave. It should have been him. "She's..." he breaths, and closes his eyes when he leans his head back against the dark wall. But as he does, Amelia's face flashes vividly in front of his eyes. Something in his chest contracts painfully. "She's dead. Amelia's dead."

"What?" Elena and Stefan ask simultaneously. They look at each other, wide-eyed, and fear settles somewhere deeper than ever before. Amelia, _dead?_ Stefan thinks, but shakes his head, disbelieving, taking hesitant steps backwards, away from his brother's words. No, it can't be. Amelia can't be dead.

"Damon, love," a voice identical to Elena's drifts through the hallway. All three of them turn to look, and there is Katherine, she'd already been inside the house, her hands folded together in front of her. And she's smiling. Elena feels her lip curling with disgust, nails digging into the palms of her hands to keep from doing anything rash.

But it's Damon that does. "_You_," he almost growls, and his eyes flare up in anger. He gets up in one smooth movement, rushing towards Katherine with supernatural speed. Stefan can tell that it's only his anger fuelling him. Before Katherine knows what's going on, Damon has his hand around her throat, forcing her back against the wall. "It was _you_," he sneers, blue eyes made of fire and ice at the same time, his entire body shaking. She's never seen him this angry.

"What are you talking about?" Katherine asks, keeping her calm. She knows how to handle Damon; this is just something he needs to get out of his system.

"I KNOW it was you, Katherine!" He grabs her around the throat and smashes her head back against the wall, her skull connecting with the wood hard. "I just don't know why," he continues, keeping a crushing weight around Katherine's neck. "Was it because she turned me? Or because you were hoping to get to her before she could tell us what you are?"

"What exactly am I, Damon?" Katherine raises an eyebrow. His care for Amelia had never been this palpable. Curious. "I love you." She tries to reach a hand for him, but Damon stops her.

"You love _nothing_," he hisses. He can see it now, the truth that eluded him all those years ago. He'd been a naive human being, in love with a monster. Amelia had tried to tell him that in many ways, but it was only his brother that had listened. "You love _no-one_. You're greedy and spoiled." Damon rears back, releasing Katherine and turning his back on her. "And you don't deserve me," he adds, voice calm suddenly, feeling that familiar ache in his chest. He finds himself finally admitting to what exactly it is: his heart.

"Excuse me?" Katherine asks. She can see Damon slipping away from her right in front of her eyes and there's nothing she can do about it. This is most unfortunate.

Damon turns around and looks at her strongly. "_Get out_," he commands, jaw clenched tight. Katherine's strong facade falters; what is happening here? She should be the one he loves, not Amelia, that pathetic excuse for a vampire, one that doesn't even properly hunt anymore. "You get this one chance to leave, Katherine. Come back here again, and I will rip you limb from limb." He knows for a fact, that if she ever does return, Stefan will gladly help him do that.

Katherine hesitates only a few moments longer, but decides against staying. Something inside her is burning, telling her to rip him to pieces, but she knows she's no match for both Damon and Stefan. Least of all now. She runs out of the boarding house without looking back.

The silence returns to the house eerily, laying between Elena, Damon and Stefan now like a distance no one dares to cross. "Damon, _what_ happened?" Stefan asks again, his eyes tearing up beyond his control.

Damon crashes to his knees again, and buries his face in his hands. "She's dead, Stefan," he cries. "She's gone."

Stefan takes another few steps back, until his back connects with the wall, and he slumps down on the floor too. Elena clasps a hand over her mouth, furiously holding back tears.

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The red cotton sheets rustle almost inaudibly, like an old soundtrack on a black-and-white movie. Crackling, a hushed intake of breaths, gasps, accompanying hard touches on anciently imprinted skin. She whispers his name (_Damon_) and moans deep in her throat, nails racking over his biceps, down his chest, teeth nipping at his skin, tongue exploring.

The dark velvety red surrounds them, hugs them tight around flushed skin, holding them... but it doesn't cover them up. His breath his hot against her skin, and she thinks, I _know_ this, I've been here before, _we've_ been here before. Together. And then she screams his name, loud, so loud that he starts laughing. It's so infectious she starts laughing too.

"Mmm," she breathes and sits up on top of him, straddling his hips while he's still part of her. One of his hands settles on her hip, the other reaching up for her lips. He traces his thumb over her bottom lip, but she sucks it in greedily. She bites down, eyes growing dark, black, and one of her fangs pierces through his skin. His hips buck up into her, making them both cry out.

She puts a hand on his chest, sweaty, but rolls her hips to keep enjoying him. He grabs her hips with both hands firmly now, guiding her, _making_ her move just like he needs her to. The nails of her right hand dig into his chest, stronger the closer he pushes her to the edge, piercing skin, hitting bone, penetrating deeper.

They climax together, shouting for the whole world to burn with them, for it to split open and swallow them whole in smouldering inferno, and for a few split seconds, it does. She burns from the inside, a force burning everywhere – her head, her veins, her _heart_ – and when she looks down, she sees her fist has pushed all the way through Damon's chest. Amelia reaches for something, it's gravelly and wrong and when she pulls her hand back, she just stares for a while.

Her hand, it's filled with coarse black sand, slipping from her fingers. "I told you this would happen if you didn't take care of it," her own voice sounds from far away.

"What about yours?" Damon asks, and she frowns down at him. Her hand is still dirty with black ash, but she pays no more attention to it. Why is he asking her about her heart? She knows her heart, better than he could ever know his own; a black dark rock right inside her chest, re-awakened whenever she's with him. Her immortal man.

"What _about_ mine?" she asks still, because she doesn't understand what exactly he's asking of her.

The next few seconds pass in a blur. Damon throws her off him strongly, fast, and she lands next to the bed, on the floor on her back, hard, her skull connecting with cold stone, but the floor is all wet and cold and other things she shouldn't be able to feel. _What's he doing?_ Amelia wonders, but Damon doesn't show himself again. Instead, there's a darkness crowding all around her, a familiar darkness that's surrounded her before and enveloped her and brought her into being a long time ago.

It comes closer in the form of thick black mist, and it penetrates her when it touches her skin. She can feel it filling up her veins and her eyes, burning, flowing through her like white-hot lava. And then there's pain, only pain, searing through her like a lightning rod made of ice water, a broad-head arrow that would do more damage coming out.

Amelia tries to get up, but there's something at the very centre of her, holding her in place, _pinning_ her down to the ground. She realises it's a wooden stake only when it's gone, when it gets ripped from her flesh, bloody, with slow human strength.

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Jeremy pulls the stake from Amelia's chest with great difficulty. He's not sure why he feels compelled to do it, but he can't stand the sight of her lying there in front of him. He feels as if he's killed someone, even though Alaric had told him it would be some _thing_, an animal that needed to be put down. It should have been Damon, he thinks, now he fears that Damon's wrath will probably do him in sometime soon now. Alaric joins him in the woods again; Jeremy figures Damon slipped away.

"We should go," Alaric says, staring down at Amelia's lifeless body. He knows it shouldn't have been her to die tonight; all this had been set up for Damon. Damon who killed Isobel, who took the one thing from him that he cared about most in this world. But then maybe losing Amelia will make Damon feel what he felt after losing Isobel. What he feels still.

Jeremy is in the process of standing up when Amelia's body spasms violently on the forest floor, and she draws in an agonizing breath accompanied by a scream. Alaric rears back immediately at the sight of it, but Jeremy doesn't get the chance to even look at Amelia. Her heart-_shattered_ roars with flames, screaming to get healed, shrieking for the one and only thing her body needed even before getting staked-_again_. Blood. Her whole body is screaming blood, lungs aching for it instead of air, gasping for the tiniest whiff of life. The hole in her chest wills it.

"Jeremy!" Alaric manages to shout, but Amelia is up in a blink, grabbing for Jeremy, eyes feral and fierce, and she plants her fangs in his neck. It takes her all the strength in the world not to rip out his throat, yet she drinks, deep, draining the life from him in a matter of seconds. She releases him before he reaches death; Jeremy drops unconscious at her feet.

Alaric's eyes have widened in fear, heart hammering in his chest. She can hear it, thudding fast, like music to her nervous system. "How..." he shakes his head, but finds no other meaningful words. How is she alive? He watched her get staked, her body died, Damon ran from her when he realised the same thing. How is this possible? "Please..." Alaric adds, but it's too much. He blinks, and Amelia is next to him, a hand at the back of his head and one under his chin. She snaps his neck without giving it a second thought. He too, drops down at her feet, only he's dead. No one touched Damon or Stefan without tasting her wrath.

Amelia stares at him for a few moments, chest heaving, dark blood dripping sluggishly from her chin and clinging to her lips. The forest goes quiet around her, but the world is spinning, turning upside town. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, but her knees buckle and she gets pulled down again. She wails, like a wounded animal, for help, for an unwitting victim who's blood she can drain. All she can think about is blood. She shouldn't have killed Alaric, but when she was this instinctual her strongest emotions overruled her. And her instinct had been to kill the man that had intended to kill Damon.

But then too – like she had seconds ago – Alaric stirs on the forest floor again. Amelia gasps, because she hears his heartbeat coming back to life inside his chest, reminded her how she's _starving_, craving more blood than Jeremy could have offered. Alaric becomes an answer to her prayers. She crawls over to where he's coming back to the land of the living, bones and tendons snapping back in place. Amelia only then catches eye of the ring on his hand. Of course, she realises, the Gilbert crest. She's seen it on another hand before; it must be what's protecting him.

It's only when Alaric is starting to regain consciousness that she takes off the ring, confident that he's fully recovered and will again once she's taken her fill and puts the ring back on. "What the..." Alaric murmurs when he opens his eyes, but then Amelia plants her fangs in his neck. He can't fight her; she's too fast.

* * *

Jeremy wakes up half an hour later, a warm iron taste in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, Amelia is looming over him, blood dripping from her wrist onto his lips. He jolts upright instinctually, instantly realising that he's _alive_ and _she's_ alive. He thought it'd been Damon attacking him. He looks around anxiously, but realises they haven't moved at all. Alaric is slumped against a tree, shirt covered in blood, unconscious.

"What did you do to him?" Jeremy asks. He foolishly hopes that if he can keep her talking then maybe he'll walk away from this alive. He realises soon that she could have killed him already. Why is he still alive? He wants to ask her, but he doesn't know if his luck will extend that far.

"I killed him," Amelia answers, and looks towards Alaric herself. Her eyes narrow on his chest rising and falling. It's the third time that night she's seen him come to life. "A few times now."

"How are you alive? I saw you..." He hadn't just seen her get staked; he'd been the one doing it. He'd felt the stake tearing through soft tissue, meeting some resistance but not near enough to stop it before it reached her heart. Had Alaric lied to him about how to kill a vampire?

Amelia doesn't know the exact answer to that, but she can guess. "I believe Darwin called it evolution," she says, and gets up on unsteady legs.

"You're _dead_," Jeremy says. "And besides, evolution takes thousands of years."

Amelia turns her head and looks down at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"You're..." Jeremy says, but swallows the last words. She's thousands of years old?

_"Old_," Amelia stresses, yet again, attempting to take a step, but she fails short of achieving it.

She feels her chest contracting and she keels over in pain, grabbing for the hole in her clothes, her skin barely healed over there. She needs more blood, more than she's ever needed, and she wants it more than anything else in the world right now. But she can't take any more from Jeremy. And the history teacher is taking too long to heal this time around.

"What is it?" Jeremy asks, fear striking him again. She might have helped him with her blood now, but nothing is stopping her from feeding off him again. "What's wrong with you?"

"I got _staked_," Amelia sneers, breathing heavily. There's no precedent for this. She's never heard of a vampire to walk away from being staked, but then she's never met one as old or older than her, even though they're out there. She doesn't know what she'll need to properly recover. She knows she has to go looking for Damon and Stefan, but she hasn't the strength to make it that far.

Suddenly voices cut through the night air, mumbles of men coming towards them. "Jeremy!" a voice calls out, and Amelia is once again struck with an unpleasant sensation. That voice, she _knows_ that voice. She wants to run, every single cell in her body is telling her to, but she can't move. The pain is keeping her paralyzed. Flashlights appear from not too far away, and then they're surrounded, police men, council members.

Amelia gives up fighting. The world blurs around her again, and she passes out in the wet leaves.

"No, leave her alive," the voice says. Of course, he wants her alive.

"Uncle John?" Jeremy asks, eyes going wide. He hadn't even known his uncle was in town again.

* * *

**1864**

**

* * *

**

Her long beige dress sweeps over the dried grass on the ground. Amelia makes her way to the run-down shack not too far from Damon; she's not keen on letting either Stefan or Damon out of sight for the time being. Emily is inside, gathering the blankets Stefan and Damon had slept in last night. "You served Katherine," Amelia says matter-of-factly.

"She saved my life," Emily answers, staring at Amelia from the corner of her eye. She's afraid to look at her directly, because she can feel the power that exudes from her. Not even Miss Pearl was this strong. "Though I did not wish her curse on either of them." Still, there is an emptiness in her eyes Emily doesn't quite understand. She's only ever known vampires to be lively, ironically. This Amelia, this _ancient_, seems like she's ready to let go of what life she has left.

"It was too late for Stefan," Amelia says, even though she doesn't need to explain. Emily must have seen Katherine feeding him her blood, she must have known of Katherine's plan. It doesn't feel right to be judged by her now, when she would have watched them change under Katherine's supervision without question.

"Why did you turn Damon then?" Emily asks, looking at Amelia standing not too far from her. Something tells her that Amelia won't harm her unless provoked.

There's a faint hint of a smile playing across Amelia's lips when she looks towards Damon again. "He reminds me of someone I once knew," Amelia answers, and folds her fingers around the silver heart pendant on the chain around her neck. His name was Conrad. Yes, he had eyes just like Damon's. She shouldn't think in such terms about other humans, she knows that, but even vampires had their moments of weakness.

"Your husband," Emily says, standing calmly now. It's so curious, she thinks, Katherine claimed to love Damon and Stefan, but she'd always doubted the validity of those words. Miss Pearl, now she was capable of some semblance of love for her daughter, Anna. This vampire however, this Amelia, she seems to have loved and lost since the beginning of time. She has come to know love like she knows herself.

Amelia turns to her then, and their eyes meet, green and deep-brown. "You are a witch," Amelia says, the same playful smile ghosting across her features. She's met her fair share of witches. She's never known one helpful to a vampire.

"You are one of the Old Ones," Emily says.

The smile drops from Amelia's lips, and her eyes go wider. One of the Old Ones, Amelia wonders, wherever did the witch find that term? After long hesitation, Amelia decides to answer Emily. She can't go around having people know her age; even now, even still, that knowledge gave people too much power. "No," she says, she's old enough but nowhere near the Originals. "I am not."

"Still, you cannot be much younger."

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	11. Couldn't Stop For Death

**author's notes:** oh God, i'm so sorry for the long wait again! i had an exam and some papers to finish, and then my muse went and failed on me. it's back, for now, and i hope you all enjoy the new chapter! please read & review! - i added some pictures to my profile for visuals on Amelia - setting: right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 11: could not stop for death

* * *

Jeremy is still shaking all over, even when Uncle John walks him inside city hall, Alaric close behind them. His head is pounding; his uncle had told him that's an effect of the vampire blood in his system. It's curious to him how much his uncle seems to know about all that. As soon as they'd been found in the forest the sheriff and her deputies had tied Amelia up and gagged her before trying to move her. Part of him wanted to tell them that Amelia was already weak enough, but then he did stake her and she _lived_; he knows he can't predict anything from here. But he feels like Amelia had spared his life and Alaric's for good reason, not just to avoid persecution.

"You were very lucky, Jeremy," John says, and check his neck again, just to make sure he was fully healed. All he wants to do is go home and sleep, right after downing an entire bottle of aspirins, but he guesses his uncle won't have that just yet. "What were you doing out there?"

"Elena..." Jeremy starts, but then he's reminded of something Amelia had said. He hadn't believed her at the time, because his sorrow and anger over losing his sister were consuming him, but hadn't Amelia said that she hadn't touched Elena? No, it'd been Damon. Damon took his sister, Damon took Vicky. But he'd feel better if his uncle didn't learn about that.

"I'm not sure luck had much to do with it," Alaric interrupts. He'd had reason to stand by Jeremy last night; it was the opportune moment to get his own revenge on Damon. Damon might not admit it to himself, but anyone watching could see he cared for Amelia. He'd hoped to keep Damon down long enough to get his shot. But then Amelia had to intervene. He didn't care about her dying, she's just a vampire, but now Damon was on the loose. And he knows without a doubt that he'll be coming for both of them. Stefan had told him that once.

Just then two deputies drag Amelia in, her feet dragging over the floor.

"What are you going to do with her?" Alaric asks, sitting down in the major's office. He has no idea why they were brought here, or why they didn't just take him straight to the hospital, but he suspects that this town is still very much aware of its vampire population. His head is spinning; Amelia's alive, _he's _alive, and she'd allowed him to live. Of course he can't know if that's out of the goodness of her heart, or because she needed his blood.

John Gilbert stares at him for a few seconds, hesitating, he can see that, but ends up answering his question. "We'll get what we can from her," he says. "Then we'll kill her."

"How?" Alaric asks, putting a hand to his neck, but all he finds there is coagulated blood; he's already healed again. He stares at his ring; Amelia seemed to have known what it would do to him. Had Isobel known what it would do to him when she gave it to him all those years ago? "Jeremy staked her. She died. And then she just woke up again." He'd never seen anything like it; Amelia had seemed surprised herself. Whatever it was that brought her back, it wasn't anything that happened to many vampires.

"Yes," John Gilbert says, and stares off in the distance for a few seconds. Alaric would almost say that his curiosity was peeked. "We think fire should do the trick."

* * *

The burning hasn't stopped, the anger seething right underneath her skin, the rage, the violence she feels over what Damon did to her. He _rejected_ her, chose some other vampire over her, and why? Because Amelia _cared_, because Amelia _turned him_, because Amelia was now _dead_. Damon was a pathetic excuse for a human, but an even worse excuse for a vampire. How could she ever have thought she could work it out? She tried, oh she really did try, but enough is enough. She's not going to take rejection from a man she created, she made strong, armed for this world of demons.

She rings the doorbell, the same doorbell, after having visited Elena's brother yesterday. The boy had bought right into her act, wholly believing that she was his sister-turned-vampire; humans were so easy to manipulate sometimes. There are footsteps in the hallway; she's confident that Jeremy won't be home – either Damon had got him in the forest, or he was burning Amelia's remains, - if he was smart that is.

As expected, it's the aunt that answers the door. "Elena," she frowns bemusedly, "What are you doing ringing the doorbell?"

"I left my keys at Stefan's," Katherine answers, slipping into another lie, a new lie, one even more convenient than the last one because it will grant her access to Saint Elena's house, to her life, to her family. All she had to do was be patient, and everything would work out in her favour.

"Well, come in," Jenna says, and opens the door for her further. Katherine feels the barrier lift, and steps into the Gilbert house like it was her own home.

_No one_ rejects her.

* * *

"Bonnie, I can't leave them now," Elena whispers in the earpiece of her phone as she switches on the coffee maker; it's the third pot she's made in the past three hours and no one has touched it, but she doesn't know what else to do with herself. After realising exactly what Damon had said to them, Stefan had slumped down on the ground and hadn't moved a muscle since. Part of her wanted to go and talk to him, even to Damon, but she too knew the grief of losing a mother. She couldn't imagine how after so many years thinking of Amelia as his mother, Stefan remained whole.

"Are you sure Amelia's dead?" Bonnie's whispering now too, out of fear to speak too loudly and send Elena in some kind of hysterics. She remembers the vacant stare in her friend's eyes when she visited a virtually unscathed Elena in the hospital after her parents' accident. She remembers how dead-tired Elena had looked when Stefan was staring death in the face only a few days before. While it's true that she doesn't know Amelia as well as Stefan, Amelia had been someone Elena could count on in her time of need. And to be honest, Bonnie had taken a liking to her as well. "I mean... did Damon say what happened?"

"He hasn't said anything." Elena shakes her head and puts a hand to her forehead. She thought he'd been bad after finding out Katherine had no care for him, the very reason why Amelia had come here, but now, she wonders if Damon will ever be whole again. It's been clear from the start that Damon shared an even deeper bond with Amelia than Stefan did. If she didn't know any better – but then did she? – she'd almost call it love. She tiptoes into the living room, her cellphone pressed tightly to her ear, until she can see Damon and Stefan in the hallway. "They haven't even moved."

"Is there anything I can do?" Bonnie asks, even though she knows there's little meaning she can have in the lives of two vampires whose hearts have just been broken. She can't help but wonder though; who killed Amelia?

"No," Elena sighs and leans up against the door frame. "But thanks for asking." Deep down she wants to ask Bonnie to come over, to sit with her and talk, or just sit in silence, because the silence that's in the house now is laden with tears, with despair and sorrow and anguish, and being in the house as the only human almost physically hurts. Elena never could have guessed that losing Amelia would put Damon and Stefan in a state of shared grief. It would be almost beautiful if it wasn't so tragic.

* * *

Damon can hear everything Elena and Bonnie are saying, despite his focus being elsewhere and despite their whispers. Elena's lying when she says they haven't moved, but of course she can't know that. She can't know that inside him there's a storm raging, that he's never felt the presence of his own heart more than now. It's ironic that he should feel it now, now that Amelia is gone, now that he can find himself admitting how much he loved her and how much she'd always been right about Katherine. His chest aches – much more than his wounded leg – with an absence of something. The absence of Amelia's touch, even from his memory, the missing of the weight of her in his arms, her words against his skin. He guesses that if he closes his eyes he could probably dream about her, but that might only make the pain worse.

So he decides to do the exact opposite instead. He doesn't want to _feel_, doesn't want to _think_, doesn't want to _see_ a goddamn thing. He does what Amelia would undoubtedly tell him not to do were she to know about it. He pushes a button embedded deeply in his vampire instincts, and ceases to feel anything at all.

"It's your fault, you know." Damon speaks his first words in hours and looks at Stefan. His brother turns his head and frowns. "She wouldn't have been here if you hadn't asked her to come." It's a low blow now that his brother is hurting too, and it's a desperate attempt to shift the blame to someone else. Part of him likes the idea that Amelia came for him and only him, but if she came for him, and just him, she now died because of him. And he can't take that too.

"Damon..." Stefan starts, but Damon doesn't allow him another word. He's up and walking, and up the stairs before Stefan has a chance to properly react. Stefan knows his brother well enough to realise that Damon was trying to shift the blame to anyone but himself, but this time he feels rebellion rippling through him violently, and he's standing before he knows it himself. He won't hear this from Damon; the brother who had always underappreciated Amelia, who'd always shied away from her when she talked about Katherine, who only accepted her presence when it served his own purposes. Now she's gone. He has just as much right to grief that loss.

"Stefan," Elena says, and is with him seconds later. He imagines she heard what Damon told him, and wants to prevent him from taking out his own pain on his brother now. But he has so many questions, needs to ask Damon so many things, about _how_ and _where_ and _who_, and most importantly, why. He also imagines Elena knows exactly what both of them are going through. Stefan looks at Elena, the tears in her eyes furiously held back, and can't find anything left in him that _wants_ to go after his brother. He wraps his arms around Elena, and kisses her hair. "Give him some time," she says. "He's been through allot."

But Damon, upstairs, isn't thinking about his pain anymore. All he can see is Jeremy and that history teacher, standing over him and Amelia on the forest floor. He sees blood, and can smell it and suddenly his teeth hurt and he's reminded that there's a deep gashing wound in his leg. He needs to feed, soon, for it to stop hurting. But he knows no blood in this world will take away the real pain inside. He's the only one that can take care of that. And he will have his revenge. Soon.

* * *

It's dark where she is; not as dark as before, when death was creeping in on her from all sides and she saw no means of escape. Yet she had escaped, somehow; she'd been stabbed by a stake drenched in vervain, she'd dreamed of being with Damon one last time and she thought, she _knew _from the moment she got up from that forest floor and rushed towards him, it would be the last thing she'd ever do. She died in his arms, knowing he did love her. What more could she have asked for? What could be worth knowing more in this whole world? Dying in the knowledge that Damon had indeed loved her and she'd saved his life. That's all she wanted in this world; protect the ones she loved. It had been made her primary reason for continuing in this existence for such a long time.

Only now she's burning again, and there's a sharp sting somewhere in her neck, vehemently present. She opens her eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark. When she strains to move she can feel it; thick ropes around her wrists and elbows, arms stretched out next to her as if she's been crucified, the same ropes tight around her waist, ankles and knees. They burn where they touched her skin. _Vervain_, she thinks, and the tiny prickling sensation in her neck is gone. There's someone in the room with her, only inches away, heat radiating off him in waves, blood pumping underneath his skin. "Jonathan," she growls, momentarily strengthened by whatever he just injected her with.

"Amelia," he says and takes a few steps back. She can see him entirely then, he's not changed in all these years, safe maybe for a renewed fashion sense and a smug smile playing across his features that's never been there before. She wants to wipe it clean off his face, plant her fangs in his neck and drink until he drops dead at her feet. But she knows she won't; they have an understanding about these kind of things. He moves even further away from her and places the syringe on a side table holding other instruments. Amelia doesn't have to see it to know what it is.

"What did you do?" she asks, fearful of what he might answer. Has he poisoned her?

"Given you some blood."

Amelia frowns, because she can feel it then; fresh blood coursing through her veins, rushing to her heart to heal what needed more repairing. Her strength still hasn't returned, chest still aching from where the stake had punctured all the way down to her heart. She'll need several gallons more to completely recover. Or better yet, she could do with some vampire blood. "Why am I still alive?" she asks, because their understanding only worked one way: she doesn't kill him, but she knows all too well what she is to him. A soulless monster that has to be destroyed, with no mercy, no compassion and more importantly, no capacity to love. He should really know her better than that by now.

"I think a better question is _how_ are you still alive?" John retorts, and closes the distance between them in a few decisive steps. He reaches out a hand for her chest and touches two fingers to the exposed patch of skin. Amelia groans in pain when he applies pressure. "My nephew tells me he staked you."

"And how is dear Jeremy?" Amelia avoids a straight answer; she can't give him any either way. She has no idea how she survived, how she can be talking to him right now. "Did you tell him who I am? Did you tell him about our little arrangement?" her voice is just above a whisper. He's so close to her; she only needs him to move another few inches and she can reach out to him, bite him, take from him what her body is begging her for.

Jonathan's hand forms in a tight fist and he presses it hard against her chest. The pain cuts through her like razorblades; Amelia shuts her eyes and tries not to cry out. "Don't test my patience, Amelia," he whispers in her ear, his nose brushing along her skin, and now he really is walking a dangerous slope. Her teeth ache, and she wants to bite down so badly, take her fill, take it _all_, but she knows she can't. He has every right to do this to her. "You shouldn't have come after my family," he says, as if he's just read her mind and only means to point out exactly why this is justified. But what else was she to do? She might not be like others her kind, but even humans were driven only by instinct when their life was at stake.

Amelia clenches her teeth tightly together. "Then Jeremy should have stayed away from mine," she mutters, and turns her head away from him. She knows she says it only because her pride is hurt; she's tied up like an animal and being treated like one, while a man she once trusted and chose to put his trust in her was threatening her life.

"Yes," Jonathan continues, and takes another few steps back. "The Salvatore brothers. " Amelia strains herself to look at him from the corner of her eye; how does he know this? "What do women see in those two anyway? Is it the money? The Italian features?" he asks, getting more confident by the minute.

"The sports cars," Amelia jokes, but doesn't feel the sentiment touching her heart. He's toying with her, but he wouldn't be alone in a room with her if there wasn't something he wanted from her that the other Council members weren't to know about. "What do you really want from me, Jonathan?" she asks.

"Pearl," he answers in short, and stares her down hard.

Amelia hesitates for long moments, too long perhaps, but in all the time she takes to think she can't for one second imagine what he'd want with Pearl. How does he know about her in the first place? How does he know about Damon and Stefan? Does this mean he knows about the other vampires too? About Katherine? "Why would I help you?" Amelia says and settles her head back against the wall, arms straining against the ropes holding her in place.

Then, there's a knock at the door.

"Because for now you still serve a purpose." Jonathan walks towards the door and puts a hand on the doorknob. She gets it now, why he's keeping her alive. He thinks they have mutual interests. But what could they possibly be? "You have information I need and I'm the only one standing between you and an angry mob that's ready to burn you at the stake. Consider the Salvatore brothers safe," he adds, but his eyes darken. "For now."

* * *

Jonathan closes the door behind him only to be confronted by Richard Lockwood and Elizabeth Forbes. "Has she said anything?" the major asks immediately, placing his hands in his sides. The tension in the room is icy; the major's mad at the sheriff that she hadn't seen this coming, hadn't known that Amelia could pose a threat to this town, hadn't seen how Damon Salvatore – a member of this very Council – was basically eating from a vampire's hand.

"Not much," he answers calmly, and stares back at the door. Amelia hadn't changed one bit; he hadn't really expected her to. She's the only one who ever calls him Jonathan, and truthfully, she's the only one he can stand it from. For some reason, hearing the name come from one as old as her – however old that is – just seems right.

"What about the Salvatore boy?" Major Lockwood asks.

Jonathan has not forgotten what he promised Amelia, but he does briefly wonder if Amelia can hear him through the door. Her hearing's sharp, but maybe not in her current condition. Jeremy had wounded her badly; he's almost impressed, only he needs Amelia now to keep Damon and possibly even Stefan in check. "An unwitting victim I'm afraid," he says, because it will be far easier if the rest of the Council continue thinking that Damon is human.

"Are you sure?" the major asks, because he remembers how Jenna Sommers had mentioned to Matt Donovan that Damon and Stefan had both been sick. What if the vampires had somehow found a cure? "Because if that kid turns out to be a vampire that is one giant cock-up..."

"The poison would have affected him if he was a vampire," Elizabeth tries to assure the major as well, but Jonathan can tell that he's not entirely convinced. She's right though, the sheriff, there's no way the poison could be defeated. So how did the Salvatore brothers manage to survive? "Someone has to tell him," the sheriff adds, and looks at the wooden door separating them from Amelia. "About her."

"I'll do that," Jonathan answers.

* * *

**so in way of apology for making you all wait (and you might need to wait for the next chapter as well) - **review = preview!**  
**


	12. Spellbound

**author's notes:** thanks to all you lovelies that left me comments on the last chapter. hope you enjoy the new one! please read & review!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 12: spellbound

* * *

The Council doesn't leave her out of its sight; there's someone in the room with her at all times. Sheriff Forbes relieves one of her deputies in the early hours of the dawn. Amelia strains against the ropes around her arms again, but they refuse to budge. Jonathan knew what he was doing when he injected her with the blood; it was enough to keep her conscious, to keep from falling into pieces, but not nearly enough to feed her or give her any strength. When she meets Elizabeth Forbes' eyes from across the room, there's hatred in her eyes that she recognises all too well. She sees it every time a human finds out just what she is, just what she's supposed to be. An animal not to be reasoned with.

"Why did you do it?" the sheriff asks, though Amelia doesn't immediately know what she means. "Why Damon?" she adds. Amelia knows she's on thin ice here; Jonathan had promised to protect Damon's and Stefan's identity, but that only worked as long as she held onto what little trust he still seemed to have in her. It was best for her own sake to play along; in this room Damon is supposed to be her enemy.

Amelia manages to laugh; this isn't too difficult a game to play. "You're joking, right?" Amelia smiles, even though her entire body is pulsing with pain. She thinks it's curious how Damon has fooled these people completely into thinking he is one of them; they all wear vervain, so she guesses she must have taught him something once upon a time. "That little egocentric prick." And that isn't even too far off bat. "He got exactly what was coming to him."

"How many did you kill, Amelia?" the sheriff continues her questions, clearly disgusted by Amelia's very presence. But Amelia knows she can't help that. "The girls in the woods?"

"I haven't killed anyone in this town." Unless one got specific on the details of course; technically she had killed Damon once upon a time, and she'd killed Alaric Saltzman quite a few times last night. But not the girls that had gone missing. She doesn't kill to feed anymore, not if she can help it.

"You attacked Jeremy Gilbert and Alaric Saltzman."

Amelia's eyes darken; she can feel her breathing deepening, her chest contracting painfully again. Why can't these people ever see? Why don't these people ever realise? All she wants is to be left alone, and in return she leaves humans to their business. "They attacked _me_," Amelia corrects. "I defended myself and still allowed them to live." Which is more than any other vampires would have granted them. "I can't change _who_ I am. And I certainly won't apologize."

"No, _what_ you are," the sheriff spits, and takes a few steps closer to her. She points at Amelia vehemently; she can't believe how this happened; how can Amelia be a vampire? How could she not have seen this danger when it stood directly in front of her? "You are not someone, not anyone, you're some_thing_. You're a soulless bloodthirsty creature. You're not right."

Amelia can see it now, the guilt, the self-blame; Elizabeth Forbes blames herself for not having seen what she is sooner. But Amelia knows that humans only see what they want to see; it's one of the many reasons Damon moves so easily in their circles. "If that's what you truly believe, Sheriff Forbes, then you don't know anything about vampires."

"You're killers." How could Amelia could have sat there, in the Salvatore living room, and offer her vervain? How could she not have seen it?

"Not all of us," Amelia amends, but she knows there's little she can say to dissuade the sheriff in her beliefs.

"You've never taken a life?"

"See now that's not fair." Amelia tilts her head, despite the pain it causes. All her muscles have begun to atrophy; that's what happens when a vampire doesn't feed on time. It won't kill her in the long run, but it'll keep making her weaker up to the point where she won't even be able to move. "I killed when I was human to protect those I loved, and that is all I still do. In death, a vampire only becomes an enhancement of its once human self. Stronger, and in so many ways more emotional. Instinctual."

"Why are you telling me this?" the sheriff turns around again, facing her. If Amelia thinks she can talk her way out of this she's very much mistaken. Once John is done with her, she'll burn.

"To make you see, Elizabeth," Amelia breaths, feeling the muscles in her entire body shrinking; she's having problems speaking, "that vampires can be rated just like humans can. Not all of us have the same low moral standards."

"What's wrong with you?" the sheriff asks, watching Amelia struggle to catch her breath.

"Starvation is quite painful," Amelia speaks through clenched teeth, her body begging her for blood she can't give it.

"I thought John..."

The pain momentarily subsides, allowing Amelia to speak again. "Jonathan gives me what I need to keep me talking. My body needs more to heal. And that's your point, isn't it? Our hunger, that's what separates us." The sheriff turns again but halts at the door. "Are you really quite sure about that?" Amelia adds, the question echoing through the hallway as the sheriff opens the door and leaves Amelia to her thoughts.

* * *

It doesn't take him long at all to pick up the boy's scent; even with the blood he's lost in the woods his hunter's instinct is stronger than ever, fuelled by hatred, the need to revenge Amelia's death, the craving at the core of him to feed on human blood. He's no longer thinking; he doesn't care about who sees him, or who knows exactly what he is. Amelia was never ashamed of what she was, and had taught him to never let anyone debunk what he truly was. That is one lesson his brother had never learned.

He sees Jeremy exiting city hall alongside Alaric Saltzman. Right, the history teacher. He watches how Alaric hands Jeremy something; he can't make it out from his vantage point across the street, but is too busy devising how to kill young Jeremy, how to hurt him good and proper and make sure it's something he himself will remember for a very long time. They both take off in opposite directions. _Unfortunate_, but Damon knows he'll get his hands on the other later. Right now it was all about taking out his revenge.

Damon steps out of the shadows right in front on his unwitting victim. "Hello, Jeremy," he says, feeling the grin spread across his face once he sees fear strike Jeremy's face. He's not thinking about how this boy is Elena's brother, how he'd once erased his memory just because Elena had asked. None of that mattered. Elena didn't matter. Stefan didn't matter. Life didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Damon," Jeremy breaths, and starts looking around for a way out.

"You could try," Damon says, but very much doubts that Jeremy is capable of running right now. He can smell his fear, alarm almost tangible in the space between them. But fear doesn't seem enough at this point; he wants _horror_, terror, he wants _pain_, he wants Jeremy to feel exactly what he was feeling when Amelia died in his arms; anger, despair, guilt. So much guilt. It's his fault Amelia came here, always unappreciative of what she did for him, what she tried to teach him. He'd always been so focused on Katherine, and what for? She abandoned him when he'd needed her the most, or that's what he likes to tell himself. In truth, the only one who'd always been there for him was Amelia.

And he'd got her killed.

Damon takes a uneven step backwards when he feels his emotions hit him again like a sledgehammer, his chest aches and he feels a dull thud where his heart should be beating. He'd tried, he tried so hard to forget, or at the very least not to think about Amelia, but how could he not when she was the exact reason he was here now? For her. To revenge her.

"Not exactly a fair fight," Jeremy says, and oh yes, there it is, his anger-_renewed_.

Damon attacks Jeremy; he moves fast, grabbing Jeremy by the arm and dragging him into an alley; he slams Jeremy's body into a wall, his skull connecting with the bricks hard. "You think I care about that right now?" Damon sneers, his hand a crushing weight on Jeremy's chest. "Amelia _created_ me, do you have _any_ idea what you took from me?"

"Like you took Vicky!" Jeremy shouts almost immediately, and again Damon is knocked off his feet. Of course Jeremy is right; Damon killed someone Jeremy loved as well. And for what? Just because he was bored. Jeremy is right; he's done much worse. "Like you took Elena!" Jeremy adds. For a human being, Jeremy isn't the smartest in the pack, Damon thinks, because how can he believe that Elena is a vampire? Still, he knows from past experience just how persuasive Katherine can be.

"Elena is still alive, you little..." Damon sighs, but fails to find the right word. "You got punked."

"What do you mean?" Jeremy asks, struggling only feebly against Damon's hold on him.

"Katherine Pierce, the vampire that turned Stefan, she's one of Elena's ancestors. They're _identical_," Damon explains, but he can see it does little to convince Jeremy that it's the truth. What does he care? What does it really matter? He's hungry, his teeth hurt and his leg is still itching from where the vervain-drenched stake had cut through his skin. And Amelia, she's gone.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Jeremy asks strongly. _As a matter of fact_—, Damon thinks, but refrains from uttering it out loud. It doesn't matter.

"I honestly don't care what you think, Jeremy," Damon says, and without giving it another thought, without a single doubt – he bites down in Jeremy's neck, his fangs ripping at the human flesh, drinking deep with an anger in his very bite that makes Jeremy scream out for one single second. Then, right after taking his fill, feeling blood drip down his chin and onto his black shirt, Jeremy drops down dead at his feet. He's breathing heavily when he looks down on Jeremy's corpse, but he hardly feels another thing at all.

One down, one more to go.

Damon wipes at his blood-smeared chin with his hand before closing his eyes. He looks for Alaric's scent in the air; it's not far off, picking up right at city hall. He only wonders briefly what Jeremy or Alaric had been doing there, discarding the thought once he picks up Alaric's scent properly. It seems Mr Saltzman steadily made his way through town, moving fast _out_ of town, almost running even. Why in such a hurry?

The little witch – Bonnie was it? – passes him in her car, heading the same way Alaric's scent seems to be leading him. The boarding house. Right back where he started. What is Alaric doing here now? Looking for him, to finish him off? Or looking for that pathetically human sentiment, _redemption_? The thought alone sets his veins on fire, blood boiling, and before he knows it he's running, past the witch's car, past the woods, right into the house.

"What the hell is he doing here?" is the first thing he asks, before even taking in his surroundings. Alaric gets up from the sofa when he sees Damon. Stefan and Elena are standing not too far from him. What tales had he been spinning them? He realises suddenly he hasn't told his brother about what happened in the woods; Stefan or Elena don't know Alaric was there, holding him down while Amelia died.

"You're bleeding," Stefan says when he sees the state his brother is in.

"Not my blood," Damon answers in short, not thinking about how he'd killed Elena's brother and had thoroughly enjoyed it, not even thinking about Amelia in this one instant. He doesn't once take his eyes off Alaric Saltzman, the history teacher that had undoubtedly been the reason why Jeremy was in those woods looking for his own personal revenge in the first place.

"Damon, what did you do?" he hears Elena ask, the worry laced deeply in her voice, but he doesn't take notice of her words. _I killed your brother_, he almost says, in a bout of blinding fury, but something still manages to stop the words from spilling out. For whatever reason, Elena chose to see something in him that Stefan hasn't seen in over a hundred years.

And then the next second he's lifting Alaric up from the ground by his throat, hand crushing around Alaric's neck. "I believe I asked you a question," Damon rages, not even noticing that he's giving Alaric absolutely no room to answer him in the first place. Maybe that doesn't even matter; he just needs him dead.

"Damon!" Elena shouts, and pulls at his arm. "Amelia's still alive!"

A beat and Damon is distracted again, arm going slightly slack but not enough for Elena to pull Alaric free. "What?" Damon asks, but doesn't look at Elena.

"According to Alaric she survived," Stefan is on his other side in the blink of an eye. "She got up and _lived_." Stefan grabs Damon's free arm, Elena still tugging the arm holding Alaric in the air. "Damon, let him go," Stefan insists, but feels his brother's strength oozing from him; Stefan can tell he's recently fed. He doesn't want to think about who he killed.

"We're expected to believe that?" Damon rebuffs, looking up at Alaric, who is running out of air fast. "He's the one that led your brother there!" Damon shouts, and sees the memories flash in front of his eyes vividly. The stake coming his way, but Amelia was between it and him without him desiring her to be. Because that's the truth; he does love her – he'd die for her too. "They were waiting for us in the woods." And come to think that they were in those woods to protect this pathetic little town in the first place. What a waste.

"Jeremy?" Elena stops trying to break Alaric free; she knows the only way to save him is to reason with Damon, which seems impossible right now. She can't blame him; she'd be irrational too if she watched someone she loved die in front her eyes. But Amelia was alive, Alaric said; they _had_ to make Damon see the truth. But her brother? "What does he have to do with it?" she asks.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Damon says, his eyes darkening. "It was your brother that staked Amelia. It was meant for me, but Amelia..." Damon gets lost in thought again, seeing, _feeling_ Amelia in his arms, those green eyes begging him to run, to save himself, and he had, selfishly so. Maybe it had been better for everyone if he'd died instead. But no, no! that's not why he was here now. "But it's _his_ fault!" Damon shouts, crushing Alaric's windpipe with one hand.

"He's telling the truth!" someone squeals from the other end of the room suddenly, and all of them turn towards the voice at once. He hadn't heard her car pull up. In the doorway stands Bonnie, clutching Emily's grimoire tightly to her chest, heart pounding in her ears. "Amelia's still alive."

Damon stares at Bonnie strongly, at the absolute fright in her eyes upon seeing the scene in front of her, but the determination in her voice was not to be mistaken. Could it be? Could Amelia still be alive? "HOW?" he shouts, because he doesn't believe it. If he allows himself the hope, even the tiniest hope, he could risk the same heartbreak all over again. And he's not sure he's strong enough to handle that.

"Put him down first," Bonnie asks boldly, her fingers curling around the thick volume in her arms.

"Damon," Elena says, picking up on Bonnie's urgency, and grabs Damon's arm again. "Please. Hear them out." She squeezes Damon's arm, and he turns her head to look at her, slowly, but he lowers Alaric at the same time. He drops Alaric on the sofa, gasping for air and coughing, fully aware that Damon is not letting him out of his sight, hands clutched into fists by his side.

"It's all in here, Emily's spell book."

That spell book has been a pain in the ass from the moment it came into his life, and now it was meant to be his salvation? How could Emily have known Amelia would survive being staked, if that's what really happened in the first place. He's still not convinced; Amelia can't be that old. Only the Old Ones can survive being staked, and he was the one who'd _seen_, the light in Amelia's eyes going out.

But Stefan has already moved to stand by Bonnie's side, just like Elena. Damon can't, he can't believe, he can't _hope_, he can't think about Amelia being alive again. Not now; it would hurt too much. "According to Emily, Jonathan Gilbert never actually succeeded in inventing anything," Bonnie says, flipping through the pages of Emily's book. "She secretly spelled them all with magic. Compass, rings, and this..."

Damon doesn't know what she's pointing at, so moves to stand by his brother's side to take a proper look. The device on the page looks like the Gilbert compass, only this one seems like it needs to be combined with a wooden box. "Emily pledged her loyalty to Katherine," Bonnie continues. "But she couldn't stand by and watch innocent people get killed. This was the only way she could think off to help. To let Jonathan Gilbert believe he actually invented these devices."

"What does that have to do with Amelia?" Stefan asks, the same question about to roll off Damon's tongue. Damon can tell his brother is already allowing himself the hope he's denying himself. Sure, Stefan loves Amelia, but for the first time ever in his lifetime he's starting to suspect his own love for Amelia is something else entirely, and definitely runs deeper.

"There's a journal entry Emily wrote, dated two nights after the fire in the church." Bonnie flips another page, revealing a page filled with Emily's small penmanship.

"I can't read this." Damon's eyes narrow on the page, but he sighs. "What's it say?"

Bonnie reads:

_The Salvatores left town early this morning with Amelia by their side. _

_I do not know what to make off her; despite my powers she is difficult for me to read. But I know she will watch over them until they can stand their own. I never wished Katherine's curse on either Stefan or Damon, but I can understand why she chose to turn Damon. I think she might already love him, even if she does not see that herself._

"Can we—" Damon starts, but swallows hard before continuing. A lump is steadily making its way up his throat that he's trying to keep down. He won't allow himself to feel this, not now. "—skip this part? Get to the relevant passages."

Bonnie continues:

_I hid the crystal in a safe place, the same place I promised Damon he will find it when the next comet passes by. He promised me he would protect my family, and I do not believe I have any reason to mistrust him. But how can I trust a creature such as him? I could not live with myself if those vampires ever woke up again. _

_I will be long gone when the next comet arrives over Mystic Falls. What if none of my kin survive that long? What if I am not able to return and prevent Damon's plans?_

_So last night, I spelled Amelia. She is strong enough, her body old enough to handle the charm. I hope that it is enough._

"She _spelled_ Amelia?" Stefan asks, frowning. Was such a thing even possible? He'd never seen any evidence that Amelia was under the influence of a spell. "To survive a staking?"

"To survive anything that would otherwise kill a vampire," Bonnie says, opening the grimoire to the spell that Emily used on Amelia. "I've never seen a spell like it. This is heavy magic. Emily knew that Damon would protect her family for as long that it served his own purposes. She knew that once she destroyed the crystal only Amelia could control him."

Damon would find the time to feel insulted by Emily's words if his mind wasn't racing to a much more important conclusion. "She's still alive," he breaths, and slowly, looks up at his brother. He can tell his brother is feeling the same kind of relief. Amelia is alive.

"It's more than that," Alaric speaks up for the first time. Damon finds little in him to even look up. Amelia. Alive. A second chance. "Jonathan Gilbert is keeping her alive for a reason."

Damon looks at his brother. "The tomb vampires," Stefan says, coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

"But how can he know Amelia can lead him there?" Damon asks. So far, in his 150 years, Amelia is the only vampire he knows that can track other vampires, that can distinguish their scents as easily as she can human scents. And if Stefan or him don't know exactly how old she is, it's fairly certain Jonathan Gilbert doesn't know either.

"Unless he doesn't and he just figures she already knows where they are," Stefan continues. Maybe Jonathan Gilbert even believes Amelia is with them.

"Better question: is your uncle stupid enough to make that deal?" Damon asks, and looks at Elena urgently.

Elena had been following the conversation between Damon and Stefan closely, but she's not sure she understands how they can be so sure about everything. It's absolutely thrilling to see them playing off each other like this, like real brothers fighting for something together, but just twenty minutes ago she hadn't even known her uncle was part of the Council, or had any knowledge of vampires. "What deal?" she asks confused.

Stupidity must run in this family, Damon thinks, and rolls his eyes. "Why do you think _we're _still alive?" If Jonathan Gilbert knows about Amelia and the tomb vampires then it isn't a giant leap to assume that he knows about Stefan and Damon as well. And there has to be a reason why the Council hasn't stormed down their doors yet.

"Would Amelia do that?" Alaric asks, because really, is he supposed to believe she has that much love for Damon or Stefan? "Strike a deal with Jonathan?"

"To save this town?" Elena raises an eyebrow, and looks at Stefan.

Damon doesn't correct Elena; yes, Amelia is probably thinking about the town as well, but first and foremost she would have struck a deal to protect him and his brother. "Yeah, she would," he says. In Amelia's mind, that was a fair bargain, even if it cost her own life.

* * *

The last time he was here was for his brother's funeral; he can't say he's missed this town. He'll be the first one to admit that family is one of the most important things in life, one of the main reasons he found himself trusting Amelia all those years ago, but this small-town life was something his brother had chosen. It's not meant for him. Still, he has a duty to the family legacy now that he is one of the only male Gilberts left. As soon as Jeremy is old enough, or strong enough to know about it, he'll tell his nephew everything.

"John," Jenna says as soon as she opens the door and sees it's him. He can tell she's less than pleased to see him right now. "What are you doing here?" she asks, keeping the door half-closed.

"Nice to see you too, Jen," he smiles. "I'm only in town for business. Don't worry." He thinks she becomes more beautiful every time he sees her. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

"Maybe you should stay in a hotel," Jenna says.

"You forget that this house is still in the Gilbert name."

"In Jeremy's and Elena's name."

"Who are both still minors," he rebuffs, and stares at her hard. Jenna sighs and moves aside, reluctantly letting him in. He imagines she hates him for various reasons, not just because once upon a time they slept together and he'd left her high and dry. "Elena home?" he asks immediately.

"She's upstairs!" Jenna shouts from the kitchen.

_Elena's home?_ John questions. Why? With Amelia supposedly dead he imagines the Salvatore brothers are in uproar, or even better yet, devastated. He knows Amelia created at least one of them, losing her must be painful no matter what kind of creature you were. He can't imagine Elena would leave Stefan alone at a time like this. He climbs the stairs slowly, leaving his suitcases downstairs.

"Looking for something?" he asks, as soon as he catches sight of Elena, digging through her room as if she's lost the most important thing in the world. What could she be looking for?

"J—" she starts, but corrects herself fast. "Uncle John." The creature in front of him smiles. This can't be Elena. But the resemblance – he'd never believed anyone when they said Katherine and Elena were identical. "What are you doing back in town?"

"Business," he answers, and puts his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door frame. Katherine turns her back on him and continues searching Elena's room. "I thought you'd be with Stefan." He looks at her closely. "Especially now that Amelia is dead." Soon as the words are out he sees Katherine stiffen in front of him, suddenly cautious.

Before he knows what's happening, she has him pinned back against the wall. "How did you know?" Katherine asks.

"Like I said. You're not with Stefan," he replies, keeping his calm. "Isobel warned me about you, Katherine." He knows Katherine sought out Isobel once; Isobel had chucked it up to genetic curiosity. He wonders if Katherine is here now for Elena too. That's something he can't let happen.

"Isobel," Katherine smiles slyly, seeming amused by the new development. Her hand coils around his neck, leaving him little room to breathe. "That little wench is in town?" she asks. "Or let me guess, she let you do her dirty work. Damon taught her well."

"Damon?" he chokes out. What does Damon have to do with this?

"Who do you think turned her?" Katherine whispers, and then, out of nowhere, Katherine is holding a knife. _Jenna_, he thinks instinctually, but the blade is already penetrating his abdomen. "Goodnight, John," is the last thing he hears before passing out on Elena's bedroom floor.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**

**next chapter: **beyond redemption**  
**


	13. Beyond Redemption

**author's notes:** look at me, keeping my promise to update in the weekend :) i hope you all liked the surprise preview earlier this week, and i hope you all like the new chapter! super-special to every single one of you that has been leaving me comments, i really love hearing your thoughts on this story. please read & review!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 13: beyond redemption

* * *

**1869**

* * *

He feels stupid doing this, sneaking into a house where he could easily walk through the front door and no one would question him about it. But something inside him is ashamed, feels guilty, and is afraid, too. He's avoiding his brother by sneaking in through the window like this; if Damon ever found out what he was leaving the house for at night he would never hear the end of it. And in a way he's avoiding Amelia as well; he has no idea how she would react. Would she be angry and tell him this is not what he is? Stefan has long since realised that she might not be like other vampires, but she has her pride about exactly what she is.

He's just hauled both his feet inside the window when he turns. "Animal blood can sustain you, you know," Amelia's voice dooms up out of nowhere. Even his vampire eyes have trouble discerning her form in the dimly lit room. He doesn't know what to say to her; he's not used to her coming into his room. She's been looking out for them for five years now, and he can't be more grateful, but he's equally grateful for the space she gives him and his brother. "I assume that's what you've been sneaking out to do?"

"Damon..." he starts, because that's his only real reason. He can see Amelia understanding given enough time, but Damon, no, not Damon. His brother would laugh at him, call him a pathetic excuse for a vampire, and truthfully, that's exactly how he feels right now. But he can't hear that from Damon. Not ever.

"Damon is too wrapped up in his own world to notice anything," Amelia answers, and takes a step out of the shadows. Her red hair looks black in the light of the chandelier. "But he will, in time." After only five years, Amelia seems to know his brother the way he does. Only now, she understands the demon part of him better, something he himself never will. He refuses to.

"He won't let me live it down."

"I imagine he won't," Amelia says, and looks at him carefully. She cares for him too, perhaps as deeply as she does for Damon, even though sometimes he is left to wonder if she only took him in because Damon and him are related. "I'll keep it in check." But she's always looking out for him, both of them. Stefan goes to his knees on the floor. Amelia closes the distance between them, going to her knees in front of Stefan, and places a hand on his shoulder. "This is nothing to be ashamed of, Stefan."

"I can't..." he shakes his head, tears stinging his eyes. The animal blood sustains him, yes, but it doesn't do away with the guilt, it doesn't soothe the hurt he feels over having killed humans after he first turned; his father, that girl he'd found in town – they're all screaming in his head, crying, judging. "Emily told me my heart was pure. That that would be my curse."

"I'm sorry," Amelia says immediately, her pity for him both touching and disgusting. He knows he can't blame her, because in the end she's not the one who turned him; that was Katherine, the woman his brother loved still, always. But he hates what he is, he hates what Amelia and Damon are; they are monsters, and he's been feeling the full extent of what it means to be one for a long time now. How could Emily have known? "I'm so sorry," Amelia repeats, and squeezes his shoulder.

"How do you do it?" he cries, hands on either side of his head, pulling at his hair. He wants to feel pain, he needs something physical to shut out the voices, the hurt, cancel out the horror of so many lives lost at his own hands. "How do you shut out the guilt?" Stefan shakes his head and looks up at Amelia, begging her to give him the answers he already has. He knows what he has to do. He has to shut out his emotions.

"I was born in a time of war, Stefan," Amelia answers, and her words stir something deep inside of him. She's never once spoken about her past, or about her human life. Sometimes – and this was particularly hard to admit or accept – he's forced to see exactly how perfect an existence this is for Damon and Amelia. He wonders if Amelia has ever considered him as obsolete. "I'm an animal," Amelia adds, looking at him as he imagines a mother would look at her son. "And my heart was never pure to begin with." So many truths, so many concessions in those few lines. Something inside his chest aches. Is this her guilt he's feeling now too?

"And Damon?" he asks, "Why does he get to..."

"Your brother is an entirely different kind of animal." Amelia sits down on the floor beside him, and for a single moment he thinks about just how unladylike it is. But he pushes that thought away entirely when he meets Amelia's eyes again. A mother's gaze. How can she believe she's an animal? a monster? in any way like Damon, even if she created him? "If this is what you need to make it in this ridiculous existence, then don't let anything stop you." He wants to ask her how old she is, but he doesn't. He knows she won't answer. "Not me. Not the thought of Katherine. And least of all your brother."

* * *

**NOW**

* * *

He hadn't understood what hit him when Damon had first told him about Amelia's death. Despair. Guilt. Loss. He'd felt it once before, an emotion quite similar to that one; when he'd lost his mother. He was only five, his brother ten, but the loss was cavernous, like something had been ripped away somewhere crucial and he couldn't breathe, he was drowning in tears and sorrow and his brother's lanky arms around him. That's what he'd felt when he believed Amelia to be dead, another mother ripped away from him before her time, before he was ready to let her go. What exactly had his brother thought he'd lost? Not a mother, that's for sure.

"Are you okay?" he hears Elena's voice behind him.

He's not sure if he's okay. The empty feeling inside him has subsided, filled with a new hope and a ravenous wish to help Amelia out, free her from the Council's claws, have her back in his life, or simply just the knowledge of her being safe. _Alive_. He'd always thought of himself in terms of _dead_, humans _alive_; he'd always thought a vampire's true death would lead them to an even darker, more evil place. Maybe now he could ask Amelia if that's true. "I don't like feeling powerless," he answers Elena, and feels her arms sneaking around his waist.

"You'll get her back," Elena says, leaning her head against his shoulder. The room goes silent for long moments, Elena and him staring out blankly in front of them. He can't save Amelia by himself, nor can Damon take that risk. They'll have to rely on Alaric Saltzman to help them out. If it's true that Jonathan Gilbert knows what they are, he suspects him nor his brother will get very close. Still, relying on a human, the same human that would prefer them all dead, seems like taking an awfully big risk. But he knows it's a choice Amelia would make, blindly so perhaps.

"What's wrong?" Stefan asks when he notices Elena chewing her bottom lip. He's been so preoccupied with his own concerns, his own life, that he feels he's been neglecting Elena.

"Do you think..." Elena hesitates, and looks up at him carefully. She turns in his arms and faces him, unsure of whether or not she should utter her worry. Stefan has enough to think about already. But she has to ask him, because her fear is gripping her tightly. "Do you think Damon hurt someone?" she asks.

Stefan knows the question isn't too far-fetched. After all, Damon had tried to kill Alaric just under half an hour ago, and his brother had told them Alaric wasn't even the one wielding the stake. But would Damon sink that low? Stupid question, Stefan thinks, of course his brother would go there. Damon's hurting, still. He waited for Katherine for a century and a half. What _wouldn't_ he do for Amelia now? "You're worried about Jeremy," Stefan says, and Elena nods. He leans in, and presses a firm kiss to her lips, his hands on her face. "Go find him," he whispers.

Elena grabs her coat and her bag and is out of the house in no time. Stefan can hear her car starting and driving down the road. Bonnie had left ten minutes ago; being around an angry Damon was making her feel uncomfortable, despite being so brave and standing up to him earlier.

He's still staring at the door when Damon rushes by, in the process of putting on his jacket before leaving the house.

"Where are you going?" Stefan asks.

Damon halts in his tracks abruptly, spins on his heels and walks over to him, looking at him as if he's asked him the strangest question in the world. _Isn't it obvious_, _little brother_, Damon's eyes spell out. "I'm going to find Amelia," he says.

On the sofa, Alaric gets up. "You can't just storm in there and take her," he says.

"Why not?" Damon asks, staring at the history teacher over Stefan's shoulder. What is he still doing here? Any minute spend in his presence is a further insult to Amelia, and he won't have that, no matter what.

"Damon," Stefan interferes, noticing the animosity in the room rising again, and to be honest, he can hardly blame his brother at this point. But this isn't the way. "Amelia is doing this to keep us safe, to make sure the Council doesn't find out what we are. We have to respect that."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Damon looks at Stefan, his eyes unforgiving. If Stefan didn't know any better – _did_ he know better? – he'd say his brother was shaking? So it's true then, he really does love her. There are few people on this planet Damon would do this for. "Sit around and let _him_ take care of things?"

"Yes." It pains him to say it, to have to say it to someone who cares for Amelia perhaps even more than he does himself, or just differently, but it's too dangerous for them to do it. They don't know what precautions the Council has taken; they know about the vervain, they have a poison that can kill them, what else could they have in store?

"Are we seriously expected to trust this guy?" Damon sneers, and takes a menacing step towards him. "That stake was meant for me, Stefan." Damon's eyes are dark, yet begging him to see eye to eye with him now. Can't he see that this unites them? It was never their love for Katherine, Damon hated him too much for being the one she turned, no, it was their love for Amelia, in whatever form it came. This is what he lives for now.

"Yes, it was," Alaric says, his hands balling into fists. "And do you want to know why?"

Stefan turns fast, looking at Alaric; he wants to shake his head but that would tip off his brother. He can't seriously think he can say this to Damon now? "You know what, yeah, I would," Damon says, and walks past Stefan, into the living room. "What is your problem with me?" Damon asks. "Besides the obvious."

Alaric takes a deep breath, ignoring the warning looks Stefan is throwing him. "You killed my wife," Alaric says gravely.

It takes exactly three of Alaric's heartbeats for Damon to speak again. "_What?_" he snaps, his eyes narrowing on the history teacher's face.

"Isobel Flemming," Alaric continues. The name is too familiar. "I saw you, while you fed on her. You took her from me." _Like you took Vicky!_ Damon hears Jeremy yell inside his head, an accusation of pain caused and perhaps a humanly naive attempt to get him to back down. "That's why I was going to kill you. For what you took from me." _Like you took Jeremy!_ he hears a future Elena shout at him, tears running down her cheeks, Stefan holding her back. What would Amelia think of him once she found out?

"Then why are you here?" Damon asks, effortlessly keeping his voice steady. It hurts, yes it hurts, like a fist curling around his heart, but he won't let anything come in the way of getting Amelia back. Even if she chooses to judge him, even if she condemns him; she knows he's not one for following the rules. Not even her rules. "Why are you helping us?"

"Because Jonathan Gilbert and the Council don't stand a chance against those vampires, and you know it," Alaric says, staring at him hard. He's taking a leap of faith here, trusting Amelia, and by extension trusting Stefan and the man who killed his wife, but what other choice does he have? The tomb vampires will have this town destroyed. "You and Amelia do." She's the most powerful vampire he's ever met, and if Emily's spell is still protecting her there's no telling what she could do. "I'm not doing this for you, Damon."

"And what makes you think we'd help?" Stefan asks suddenly. Even he can see that expecting Amelia to help after he tried to kill her and his brother, is asking a lot of a vampire that shows humans more mercy than they sometimes deserve. He suspects that Amelia's shoulder wound he'd seen prior to her heading to the forest was caused by Alaric. Amelia had obviously shown him mercy once, what made him believe he'd earn that from her again?

"I don't," Alaric says, and finally looks away from Damon. "But Amelia will. And where Amelia goes, you follow."

Damon laughs, but knows he's probably right.

"Where's Elena?" Damon frowns and looks around. He's gotten used to having her nose around in their business.

"She went to look for Jeremy," Stefan says, crossing his arms over his chest. He's not entirely sure, but he thinks he sees Damon flinch. "She thinks you might have hurt him." He would have gone with her, except he sees Damon capable of ripping Alaric to pieces yet; it's best he keeps an eye on his brother. Damon turns around slowly, too slowly, and Stefan realises Damon had entered the house with blood all over his chin and neck; he'd cleaned up since then. "Damon, what did you do?" Stefan asks when Damon stays silent. He'd expected him to make a snide comment about Elena's little brother.

"I killed him," Damon answers, not once taking his eyes off Stefan.

It's like he gets the wind knocked out of him. "You what?" Stefan leaps forward, grabbing Damon by the shoulders. "Damon, are you insane? He's Elena's brother!" he shouts, but all Damon does is avoid his eyes. So he does feel something, Stefan thinks, but apparently not enough to stop himself from killing Jeremy. How could he have ever thought his brother would change, or deserved redemption in any way? He was a monster, impure and undeserving. He should have just let him rot in that bed after he opened the tomb and found it devoid of Katherine.

"He had Amelia's blood in his system."

The words hit Damon and Stefan like lightning striking. Damon turns towards Alaric in slow-motion it seems, the rock inside his chest aching, bleeding, _judging_. Stefan is out of the house without having to think about it. He has to find Jeremy before Elena does.

"You see now, Damon?" Alaric asks, watching the vampire in front of him slump his shoulders. Is this the only victory he'll get? Watching Damon break down piece by piece until there's only a shell of him left? He's not sure that's enough. "How much grief you cause?"

Damon hears the words as if they come from his brother's mouth. But it hurts as if they come from Amelia's.

* * *

**1869**

* * *

He's shouting fire and brimstone at his brother when Amelia comes home. She must have heard them from miles away, but still she takes her time in the hallway, taking off her cloak, her gloves, her hat. The room is silent when Amelia finally makes it into the den. They'd rented this house legitimately; Amelia had told them in order to avoid detection, they best stick to at least some human rules. Amelia takes in the scene in front of her silently; Stefan curled up in the corner in the same state he'd been in a few nights ago when she'd found him in his room; a dead human body staining the carpet.

"Damon," Amelia starts calmly, having learned there are several ways of approaching Damon. "What are you doing? I told you..."

Damon rolling his eyes stops her short. "Oh come on, not with the rules again!" he sighs, and looks at Amelia. Even after all these years, her presence exudes a power over him; he's not sure that's because she created him, or because he's attracted to her. Maybe it's both. But she's been holding him back from the beginning, something Katherine never would have done. "We're _vampires_, Amelia. when are you gonna start living a little? We can do whatever we want!"

"Like this?" she asks, and throws him the newspaper she'd been holding until now. He sighs and looks down at the front page, the main article about people disappearing, animal attacks. Of course Amelia would know this was his doing. "I told you not to kill anyone, Damon. Not when we're in small towns, and don't you try lying to me." He wouldn't dare lie to her. "There's a reason I have these rules. It keeps up alive."

In the corner, Stefan snickers, right before cradling his head in his hands again.

"Like _he's_ keeping himself alive? Guilt eating at him." Damon sneers and points at his brother. Pathetic, he thinks, how did they ever get here? Stefan is the one that had convinced him to choose this existence, who Katherine had chosen to be like her, and this is how he repaid her? By turning into this sobbing mess of a vampire. "Did you know he turned vegetarian?" he turns to Amelia again.

"Your brother made a choice. You should respect that," Amelia answers. She knows and she approves? How can she just accept this, after watching how Stefan brought that girl in the meadow, practically forcing him to feed on her? And now Amelia was just going to accept that? Whatever happened to being proud of what they are? "I think it's time you make yours as well," Amelia adds, her eyes once again falling on the dead young woman in their living room.

"Excuse me?" Damon's eyes go wide and then narrow on Amelia's face conspicuously. What is she trying to say to him?

In the corner of the room, Stefan wails.

"I'm not going to keep cleaning up your messes," Amelia answers, talking to him as if he is a child. She doesn't always use that voice on him, she knows how to handle him too well, but right now condescension sounds through clearly in her tone. Maybe she's had enough of him. Is she choosing his brother over him, like Katherine had? "Either you abide by my rules or you don't. And in that case you have no business in this house."

"You're kicking me out?" Damon's eyes darken. Something inside him aches and turns rebellious at the same time, because he's attached to her, but he needs to be free to live his life as well. Can't she see that? "And you're keeping _him_? Who do you think you are?"

Amelia has him pinned against the wall before he's properly finished speaking. He's noticed she only uses force when she's annoyed at him, and trying to make something very clear. "I'm the vampire that created you and has been keeping you alive for the past five years." Yes, he does know that, how can he not when he feels their connection always, even when she's not in the room? "I can do whatever I want, but I choose to protect little brats like you instead." Amelia's spoken often of these rules, but never once had Katherine mentioned them, and _she_'d been teaching him everything.

"That's no way to treat your son, mommy." Damon knows he's testing her patience now. Amelia's eyes flare with fire, but she keeps quiet. Maybe she does know him. Maybe she knows to just let him say it, to just let him get off his chest whatever he's feeling. This is how it's going to be, Amelia choosing Stefan as well.

He turns, and walks away, leaving his brother to live a life he has no care for, leaving Amelia to clean up his last mess.

It'll be seven years until they see each other again.

* * *

**NOW**

* * *

Her heart is pounding hard in her chest, a fist trying to break free from its confines. What if Damon hurt Jeremy? What if Damon _killed_ Jeremy? Would he do that to her after everything they've been through? But she knows the answer to that all too well; of course Damon is capable of hurting Jeremy, despite him being her brother, despite him erasing Jeremy's memories once upon a time. And now, with having believed Amelia to be dead, taken from him by Alaric and her brother, what wouldn't he do now?

"Jeremy!" she shouts as soon as she storms through the front door. Will he be upstairs? Should she call Stefan to come help him? Would Stefan leave Damon alone in the house with Alaric? She's not sure even she would make that choice. "Jeremy!"

"Elena?" Jenna pops into the hallway from the kitchen, and frowns at her. "How did you...?" she starts, but shakes her head. "I'm going crazy."

The implications of Jenna's words dawn on Elena slowly. "What do you mean?" she asks carefully.

"I could have sworn you were already upstairs with your uncle John."

"Uncle..." Elena breathes, but doesn't wait to finish her sentence. She rushes upstairs, conquering two steps at a time, and stops short when she sees her uncle lying on her bedroom floor, a pool of blood circling him. "Oh my God," she exasperates. Was this Damon's doing? No, it can't be, it had to have been Katherine. But why? John drawing in a sudden breath snaps Elena out of her thoughts. Of course, the Gilbert ring, just like Bonnie had said. "Uncle John," Elena says, closing the door so that Aunt Jenna won't hear anything, and goes to her knees next to her uncle.

"Elena?" John asks, shaking his head.

"It's me," Elena answers, just to make sure that her uncle knows Katherine is gone. What was she doing here in the first place? Getting revenge? Then why was her Aunt Jenna alright, and not her Uncle? Did he know about Katherine as well? "What happened? Where's Jeremy?" Elena asks, because that's her first – and for the moment – only priority. "Damon said he'd..." but she can hardly utter her suspicions to her uncle.

"He's not home yet?" John asks, and staggers up from the floor. His shirt is a deep bloody red, but he seems to be fine.

"No." Elena looks at him worriedly. "Are you going to be alright?" she asks.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," John says, and she looks at him slowly. She forgot she's not supposed to know yet that he's in town, that he's keeping Amelia prisoner and knows about Stefan and Damon. Does he know that she's dating Stefan too? "But then you know exactly how long I've been in town, don't you? Tell me, how are Stefan and Damon?" He's taunting her. Why? "There's no need to pretend anymore, Elena. I know you know."

She's never liked her uncle very much; for all his talk about family pride and loyalty, he's not been around much in the past few years. He'd come down for the funeral, but had left almost immediately after. He didn't even remind her of her dad in any way, they were two different people. Just like Stefan and Damon were. Why is he acting all familiar now? Does he know what he's taken from Stefan? Does he know what Damon was capable of when someone he loved was threatened? "Amelia's done nothing wrong," Elena says.

"She's a vampire, Elena." He doesn't even try to sugar-coat it. "She must die. And so must Stefan and Damon." At any given moment she would find herself arguing with her uncle, with anyone, about how Stefan is different, hell, even Amelia was different, but not now, not here, not when her brother is out there somewhere and she doesn't know what's happened to him.

"I have to go find Jeremy."

"I can take care of that," John spews, clearly displeased with her. "I'll have the Sheriff dispatch some units." But what if the sheriff finds Jeremy and he tells them what Damon did? She doesn't care much for Damon at this point, but exposing him could mean exposing Stefan. And that can't happen. She needs to get to her brother first.

"He's my brother," Elena says, opening the door again, and pushing past her uncle. If he thinks that she'll just sit here and do nothing, he's very much mistaken. Whatever happened to family having to stick together?

John grabs her by the arm before she makes it out the door. "Not your real brother," he says, voice low and threatening. His words are a slap to the face; is that it? She's not a real part of this family so she has no right to feel for any of them?

"What?" Her eyes go wide. "How do you know about that?"

"Same way Jenna did," he lies, but he can't tell her the truth just yet. He can't tell her he's her father. "But that doesn't matter. Isobel is..."

"You know my birth mother?" Elena asks immediately. She only knew the name, and that she could be Alaric's wife. Does this mean it's a different Isobel? because last time she heard Alaric's wife was dead. Or worse, does this mean her birth mother is a vampire too?

"I know a lot of things you don't, Elena." Her uncle avoids answering her question. "About this family, this town." _About Amelia?_ Elena wonders, but at the word family her thoughts turn to Jeremy again. She has to find him. "I know what Stefan and Damon are," John adds.

"Why are you telling me this?" Elena tries to keep her calm, but her uncle is still holding her arm and it doesn't seem like he's going to let go any moment soon.

"I don't know how they managed to survive the poison I had put in the water supply," John starts, and Elena's heart drops. Stefan was poisoned by her own uncle. How could he do that to her? "... but mark my words. If they get in my way, I'll be forced to take steps."

Elena believes him.

* * *

He's in the dark. It's a deep-set and tight-packed black around and in him. It's almost as if it's alive; there's waves as black as the next one but he can make them out clear and distinct. They're hugging him everywhere, covering his eyes, pulsing in his eardrums, penetrating to where something used to beat. He's one with it, he _is_ it. How is that possible? He doesn't understand what's happening to him.

There's not a sound and there's every sound, not a smell and every smell; a thick hazy delicious smell, pulsing like rivers underneath something human and fragile. He craves it.

When he wakes up, he remembers. Damon attacking him, telling him impossible things, his teeth... Jeremy grabs for his neck, and his hands are a bloody red when he looks at them. But there's no wound. How is that even possible? Did he imagine things? He couldn't have been dreaming, because there's the blood and he's in the same alleyway. What if... no, oh, no.

* * *

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	14. Set Me Free

**author's notes:** neeeeew chapter, that in essence just wrote itself, i can take little credit for it. hope you all like it! in happy happy news (which i am rather excited about) this story has reached 100 reviews! yay! *throws confetti* so every one of you that comments will get another shiny preview!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE** (apple of discord)

chapter 14: set me free

* * *

She doesn't know how much longer her body will be able to sustain this, this state in which she drifted between consciousness and sleep, between undead and the ghost she'll become if this persists any longer. Her wounds have healed for the most part; the one in her shoulder had healed fast after she'd drank Alaric's and Jeremy's blood, but healing Jeremy had taken its toll. She can still feel the hole in her chest, aching, _burning_, but right now it's hard to tell where the pain starts and where it stops exactly. Jonathan hadn't been by all day, and the blood he'd injected her with had already burned through her system. Right now, everything is blurring around her; the room looks hazy, voices are mere echoes. Only her body seems outspokenly present, its outlines charcoal black, insides aflame.

"So where's John?" Amelia asks, raising her head halfway, head drumming.

"He's out looking for Jeremy," Sheriff Forbes answers, and there's a tinge of concern that cuts through her. Amelia isn't looking good at all. In any other context she'd be glad to be rid of a creature like Amelia, a dangerous devilish thing that had no business in this town, or this world for that matter. But John had told them they needed Amelia's skills to find the other vampires in town, the ones that wanted revenge, the ones a great deal more dangerous than Amelia, if she can believe John.

Amelia doesn't immediately know what to respond. There's something in her that grows anxious fast. _Damon_, her mind echoes, because if Jeremy is missing she fears it could very well be Damon's doing. He always struck before thinking through his actions when he was angry, and she can imagine this is the sort of anger that fuels a man indefinitely. Especially a man like Damon. "Pity," Amelia huffs, hoping her anxiety doesn't sound through too strong. "It's not like him to miss out on all the fun." If John truly fears for Jeremy's life, she can understand his absence, but it's so very difficult to forgive him for it. Amelia pulls at the ropes around her arms, vervain digging further in her skin and underlying veins. She's had it with this; a man like Jonathan should show more respect for one as old as her. For one he shares kinship with.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the sheriff frowns, not at all liking the implication in Amelia's tone. Does she mean that John has done this before, or that he knows her somehow from before? No, the sheriff decides, Amelia's just trying to create confusion; she's dying and she's grabbing on to every lifeline she can find.

There's a short knock at the door before the sheriff can say anything more, and one of her deputies joins them in the room. Amelia finds it amusing that not one of them ever dares to meet her eyes. "Sheriff Forbes," the young man says, "Damon Salvatore is here to see you."

_Damon_, the word echoes, screams, pounds in her head, but Amelia tries her best not to react to the name too violently. What is he doing here? Why now? She hopes sincerely he's not here to do anything reckless, like try and break her out himself. Yes, she'd give about anything to get out of this room, to feed properly, to sink her teeth in Damon's veins and be filled with blood stronger than any human's. But she's also doing this so that John doesn't expose Damon or Stefan. Damon must know that if he's exposed, it won't take them long to find Stefan either. He can't do that to his brother just to save her. But she knows he's well capable of it.

"Great," Sheriff Forbes sighs. She's not sure she can deal with Damon right now. She herself had felt utterly betrayed when she'd found out that Amelia was a vampire; she doesn't want to think about how Damon would react. Most of the time, he struck her as the kind of man with a very short fuse. "What does he want?"

"He wants to see... _her_," the deputy answers, keeping his eyes downcast, only carefully glancing at Amelia when he knows she's not looking back. She's used to that.

"By all means," Amelia manages a grin, mouth watering at the thought of sinking her teeth into something as delicious as Damon. She would just about give her right arm to taste a few drops of Damon's blood, strong and virile, more his than hers, but her blood flowed through him nonetheless. Her arms strain against the ropes holding her in place involuntarily, her body beckoning her towards Damon, towards her salvation, towards her love. "It's been a while since I've had something ripe and juicy," Amelia jokes, but her chin drops to her chest, a painful shudder reverberating through her body. She whimpers, and says no more.

The sheriff doesn't grant her the satisfaction of an answer either. She walks out the door, pushing past her deputy, glancing back over her shoulder to see him lock the door and stand guard outside. She goes down to the town hall lobby, where Damon is pacing back and forth frantically, denied access by two other of her deputies. He stops moving as soon as he sees her. "Damon, you shouldn't be here," she says, sending her deputies out of the room with two short nods.

"I want to see her," Damon says, hand in his side, but one finger pointing strongly at her. He disregards any personal space between them, and looms tall over her. "_Now_," he insists, and part of him, a huge big too human chunk of him aches for the sheriff to grant him access, _needs_ to go inside and see Amelia, confirm with his own two eyes that she really is alive and he has a second chance with her. In truth, he knows he's had too many chances with her already, each of them wasted by his own selfishness, his foolish love for Katherine, and their combined pride.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Sheriff Forbes shakes her head, noticing how Damon is almost shaking right where he's standing. He's hurting, he's in distress, and she really can't afford him facing off with Amelia in this state. Who knows what he might do. "You're too close to this, Damon," she adds, Damon's eyes focusing on her face darkly, rather than remaining nervously downcast.

"Too close?" Damon sneers, his eyes narrowing on her face, and moves even closer to her. The sheriff staggers on her feet, trying to keep her balance. "That little _bitch_ played me," he snaps, pointing at the hallway behind her, his arm hovering over her right shoulder. Is he even aware of how close he is? "I have a right to go in there and look her in the eyes." His blood boils in his veins, and he can tell Sheriff Forbes easily mistakes his anger towards the entire Council for anger towards Amelia. How very convenient, he thinks, how humans almost only see what they want to see.

"I can't do that, Damon, I'm sorry." The sheriff takes a step back. "The mayor has ordered me to keep you out of this."

He'd never credited Mayor Lockwood with an overabundance of brains, but that was a fairly smart move. Damon knows the mayor has been having his suspicions since finding out he and his brother had gotten ill, but luckily his recovery at Amelia's hand had somewhat dissuaded those thoughts. Now, being linked to a vampire yet again, he can certainly understand why the mayor would want him nowhere near Amelia. Damn him. Change of tactic it is. He casts down his eyes again, taking a more than careful step back. "What are—" He lets his voice crack intentionally. "Can you at least tell me what you're planning on doing with her? There's a reason you're keeping her alive."

Sheriff Forbes breathes in calmly. There's no reason why Damon shouldn't know this. When the time comes, they might need him. They _will_ need him. "Jonathan Gilbert thinks she can lead us to the other vampires," she explains. "He thinks it's only a matter of time before they collectively attack, and he wants to be the one to strike first."

"You and your deputies against an army of vampires?" Damon asks. _Fools_, he thinks, how do they hope to survive that? Even Stefan, Amelia and him together wouldn't be able to stand against them and live. What do they hope Amelia can do for them anyway? Lead them there? Then what? "That's suicide."

"John has a plan," the sheriff assures.

"What plan?" Damon asks strongly, but the sheriff seems instantly reluctant to answer that question. This is however the one part he's interested in. What does Jonathan Gilbert plan on doing once Amelia has located the tomb vampires for her? He needs more information. "Elizabeth..." Damon tries, doing that eye-thing Elena had once accused him of using on his unwitting victims. Normally he uses a much more aggressive tactic if he wants information, like his fangs, but he has to control himself. Stefan hadn't believed he'd be able to.

The sheriff sighs again, but looks away. Maybe he's losing some of his edge. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything more."

"How long?" Damon asks, the sheriff half-turned away from him already. But he needs to know, he needs a timeline. And he needs to buy Alaric as much time as possible to free Amelia; he hopes sincerely that Alaric had gotten past the sheriff's deputies, and that Amelia was already free. He'd wanted to do it himself so badly, see her, _be_ the one to free her, but Alaric had dutifully convinced him that Amelia escaping while he was talking to the sheriff would remove him of all suspicion. They'd agreed to meet back at the house. A plan, yes, but not one he had to particularly like. "When are you moving her?"

"That's for Mayor Lockwood and John Gilbert to decide," the sheriff answers, glancing back at Damon over her shoulder. "Whenever the time, they best decide quickly." Damon looks at her, and frowns. What does she mean? "She hasn't got long," the sheriff says.

Something in Damon's chest breaks.

* * *

Part of her is hoping the sheriff doesn't let Damon in; she's afraid of what she might do when she sees him, fangs sliding out and ravenous for a taste of blood, sinking in his skin. She's afraid that Damon might just let her, too. The other, animalistic part of her needs him to walk through that door, and lay everyone that gets in his way to waste. But she can't help but wonder, with the part of her brain that is still functioning and human, whether Damon can ever forgive her for the things she said. Of course she'd spoken truth, so maybe his acceptance is the best she can hope for.

There's a dull thud outside the door, like something hitting the floor; Amelia can hear keys jangling, a key inserted in the lock, and the door opens. Alaric Saltzman ducks in fast and closes the door again behind him. _Ironic_, Amelia thinks, to be expecting Damon, but getting the history teacher instead. _Poetic_, Alaric thinks, when he lays eyes on Amelia, bound by ropes like Jesus was nailed to the cross, but he gives himself little more time to ponder it. He knows Damon is distracting Sheriff Forbes downstairs, but he still has to move fast.

"Have you come to gloat?" Amelia sniggers, but is forced to squeeze her eyes shut forcibly; the pain is getting worse.

"I've come to help," Alaric answers, and makes his way towards Amelia. He grabs a knife from his pocket and starts cutting through the ropes at her ankles; he can smell the herbal essence of the vervain, it's unmistakable.

"You've come to break me out?" Amelia stares down on Alaric, surprised and slightly disgusted, because he's part of the reason she's in here in the first place. If he hadn't led Jeremy to the woods, hadn't been so keen on killing Damon – _why exactly?_ – she wouldn't be here now. "You've got to be joking me." Why would he do that now? Alaric is a smart enough man, he has to know that her dying hurts Damon in more ways than his death would. Or maybe that's just her depraved mind speaking.

"You're the only one that can protect this town and keep Damon in check at the same time." Alaric stands up and faces her. He doesn't know if the blood Damon handed him will sufficiently heal her body, or make her strong enough to make it out of here without his aid. But he's fascinated once again to see her alive, to see how she survived a wooden stake. It had seemed impossible, even after seeing it with his own eyes, after hearing from Bonnie there was magic involved. What has his life come to?

"What makes you think I give a damn about this town anymore?" Amelia asks, her words venomous, but she's grateful to feel her legs released, and not a few moments later her waist is free as well. "It's only ever brought me pain and misery." And death; she'd come here once to die. But Mystic Falls had also led her to Damon.

"That's it?" Alaric straightens himself out, and looks at Amelia gravely. He can't tell whether she's being serious or not anymore. If she is, he might as well let her rot here and catch her death. Of course, Damon would kill him if he did that. It's so tempting to leave her here, to watch Damon fall to pieces and yes, gloat, but he can't let this town suffer just because he wants his revenge. Maybe he'll just wait it out then. "You're just going to feel sorry for yourself?" he asks, challenging her pride.

Amelia manages a weak smile, one of her arms released. "You know, Mr Saltzman," she says, "If you hadn't tried to kill Damon, I might actually like you."

Her other arm is released when Alaric cuts it loose and she feels herself hurtling to the floor, but Alaric catches her around the waist easily. He eases her down on the floor, and produces the bag of Damon's blood. Damon had told him vampire blood would do Amelia more good now than any human's; it was stronger, and would heal her faster. Apparently for other vampires, it was an aphrodisiac as well. Damon had over shared. "Here," he hands her the bag, and Amelia takes it greedily. "Will it be enough?"

"To make it out of here," Amelia nods, drinking the blood in big gulps; Alaric has problems watching it. She finishes it in next to no time, but he sees little change in her. "I need some time." Amelia swallows hard, and looks at him, her eyes a dark black. He guesses that whatever effect the blood has, it is yet to kick in. "Go," Amelia mutters, curling into a ball on the floor, hugging her arms tightly around her chest. "If something goes wrong it's best you're not seen with me," Amelia explains, and he feels strangely grateful. He also worries however, for what will happen to the deputies should they find Amelia like this, or cross paths with her on her way out.

"Okay," he still agrees, because Amelia's right; he doesn't want to be associated with any vampires, and he doesn't want to be labelled a sympathizer. God knows what will happen to him if the Council ever did. "I'll be waiting around back in the car."

Amelia watches how Alaric opens the door, looking carefully if the coast is clear, and then he disappears from the room. Her body shakes, waves of warmth spreading throughout her body to which she closes her eyes; this is a moment that needs to be cherished, appreciated, _loved_. But she realizes she needs it more than ever before; the blood is not enough to restore her fully, but she knows it'll be enough for her to make it out of here. She manages to raise herself on her arms, they shake for a moment, but she finds her balance. She thinks about Damon and how he'll be waiting for her at the house, and Stefan, he'll be just as happy to see her again. The only thing she needs to do is get up and run. _Get up and run_.

She gets up on unsteady legs, her knees quaking, but a warmth – different from the painful fire that raged before – spreads throughout her as she flexes her muscles. "Amelia," the sheriff's voice is behind her, and she turns in the blink of an eye. The room spins slightly, like it wouldn't have done if she'd been at full strength, but enough to keep her focus. She'll be walking about of this room, of that she's sure.

"I'd love to stay and chat," Amelia says, and rushes towards Sheriff Forbes, pinning her back against the wall hard. The veins in the sheriff's neck pulse and call to her, her fangs sliding out, but she keeps herself from biting down. If she gives in now, she'll kill the sheriff, and that's one thing she can't afford to do. "But—" Amelia stops short when she feels a tiny pinprick in her thigh. The sheriff is holding a syringe; it drops to the floor once it's emptied out. _Vervain_. Amelia growls, baring her teeth, but finds the strength to just knock the other woman out. She looks down at the sheriff, on the floor now, cursing herself for not having seen the syringe. Starvation has made her slow.

* * *

He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently fast, waiting for Amelia to make it out of the building. She hadn't told him how much time she'd need and he had no idea how long it would take either, but he wishes she'd hurry up. It's one thing to help break out a vampire who's pseudo-trust he'd betrayed, but to be waiting here for her, that's risky. He's at the back of the town hall, but anyone could still see him, anyone could connect him to this.

Suddenly, the door of the passenger side opens, and he starts the car because he thinks it's Amelia. Except it isn't.

When she sits down and closes the door, her green eyes are unmistakable. The dark hair, the secret smile. "Hello, Rick," she says, voice exactly the way he had once put it to memory.

"Isobel," he breaths, and blinks. He looks at her closely, then looks again, but he isn't imagining things. He didn't fall asleep and he's not hallucinating; this is _his_ Isobel. "Oh my God. You're..." She's a _vampire_, he realises, his heart dropping, and he feels queasy. Damon turned her into a vampire? Why? He knows Isobel had always been strangely fascinated by the supernatural, but this? This is going too far. Why hadn't she come to find him before?

"I know," she smiles a devious grin, and he can't in that moment recognise her. This is a creature, not his wife. "What are you doing?" she asks disinterested. "Waiting for someone?" _She knows_, Alaric thinks, because for some reason he still manages to read her after all these years, she _knows_ that he's waiting for Amelia. But who is Amelia to her?

"I..." he hesitates, but is at a loss for other words.

"_Drive_," Isobel commands. Alaric obeys.

* * *

Jeremy only partially knows what drives him back there. Part of him thinks he's there to see his Uncle John, to ask him for his help, the one father figure left in his life, but how can he face his uncle now, knowing what he has become? is becoming? _is_? His gums hurt, and he doesn't want to think about how or why, because thoughts like that send his head spinning.

That other part of him, the part that is scaring him senseless at the moment, goes down to the town hall to see Amelia. He blames her, even though he knows that's unjust. He should blame Damon, and maybe that's why he goes to see her instead. She knows Damon, Amelia cares for Damon, but it's more that draws him to her. Amelia had seemed different, somehow, in a way inexplicable to himself right now.

He decides to go around the back, to avoid being detected by the sheriff's deputies or the sheriff herself; they'd recognize his symptoms instantly. The street is abandoned when he gets there, but the back door opens and someone stumbles outside. _Amelia_. What is she doing? How did she get out? She falls to her knees, crashing to the ground hard, the heel of her boot breaking in the process. What's wrong with her?

Jeremy feels himself rushing over to her involuntarily, drawn to her it seems, like a moth to flames. "Amelia," he says, and grabs her arm. _Vervain_, he thinks automatically, but he can't be sure about that; Amelia hasn't fed in a few days now, and her wounds still didn't seem healed. What had his uncle been doing to her?

"Jeremy?" Amelia asks, dazed and confused, and she has trouble getting her bearings. She manages to look at Jeremy with great difficulty, but what she sees has her convinced instantly that Damon got himself into more trouble. Jeremy is turning; there's evil crawling beneath the surface of him that's unmistakable to her. Had Damon known he'd be turning Jeremy? No, of course not, Damon had believed her to be dead, there's no way he could have known her blood was in Jeremy's system. This wouldn't end well.

"What's wrong with you?" Jeremy asks. Amelia staggers to her feet, her balance shot again, but she has to get out of sight before the sheriff's deputies realize she's gone, or before the sheriff wakes up. Jeremy helps her up – she's not sure why – and gets her out of the alley. In the next street she crashes down again, and can't find the strength to get up this time.

"Need—" she chokes out, and digs her hands into the soil to keep herself from screaming out and alerting the entire town. _Bloody Council_, she curses mentally, she should have gotten Stefan and Damon out of here the moment they realized this town still knew about her kind. Now it's far too late.

"Amelia!" Jeremy is still holding her arm, and shakes her. "What do you need?" he asks. He doesn't know why he's so desperate to help her out, but she might just have answers he doubts he'll ever get from Damon. Had Damon even meant to turn him into this... this... _monster_?

"_Damon_," Amelia begs with her last breath, and passes out in Jeremy's arms.

* * *

**so you all know what's coming next chapter, right? REUNION!**

**re**view = **pre**view**  
**


	15. The Reunion

**author's notes:** the thesis has been completed (now i just have 2 exams to get through at the end of the week) and there is a new chapter. good day! hope you all like the new chapter! the reunion scene was one of the first scenes written for this story :) i'll admit i'm quite proud of how this chapter turned out. super-special thanks to everyone leaving me comments!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**

chapter 15: the reunion

* * *

**(1889)**

It's Paris, and it's the year 1889. He hasn't seen her in years, but every part of him is glad to see her when he notices her laughter in the crowd. She stands out from the rest of them only because he knows her; she's learned how to blend into a crowd, her years of experience put to use perfectly. And he blends in too, not just because he learned how to behave in company in his human years; Amelia equally taught him everything she knew for him to blend in as an animal, even though he's long since renounced human blood.

Her French is flawless, unlike his, which is more choppy and less certain. He can't help but wonder how many languages she speaks. "Stefan," she smiles, and he can tell she'd been waiting for him to come over, just like custom prescribes. He kisses her cheek, like a gentleman, three times, as French etiquette specifies. "How have you been?" Amelia asks, her smile almost infectious; she's happy to see him. They parted ways not long after Damon left, but not because he had problems sticking to Amelia's rules. It had been time for him to be on his own for a while.

Amelia hooks her arm in his, and they walk outside to the balcony overlooking the capital city; she tells him about her adventures, about the imminent unveiling of the Eiffel Tower, careful not to talk about her eating habits. He can't imagine her being this careful around Damon, but he's grateful for the effort. Amelia might understand his brother better than he does now, but she understands him equally. Like a real mother would.

"Have you seen Damon at all?" he asks, because in the end most of their conversations will always lead to that one question. He knows his brother hates him, for something he's now sure he never even wanted. Katherine had used them both, but he knows that no reason will reach his brother now. Amelia had explained to them that their human emotions will always affect them in this life, should they choose to feel it at all.

"I ran into him a few years ago," Amelia answers, and he guesses his eyes betray his next question. "Same old Damon." Amelia smiles, but it falters when Stefan averts his eyes. He still hopes his brother will change one day, and realise, as he did, that Katherine had been manipulating both of them from the start. "Same old Stefan?" Amelia asks, and he looks at her carefully. He knows he can't answer her, even though she carries no blame in his transformation, but he knows how deep her caring for him runs sometimes. He hears her take a breath: "The world won't always be like this, Stefan," she says, and squeezes his arm.

"Won't it?" Stefan asks, and stares out in front of him, the city illuminated brightly beneath them. "We'll always be hiding, always hiding our true nature. Always fighting it." He sighs, because it's the same old song, and Amelia doesn't deserve the blame shining off his every word. Everything she ever did was for him and his brother. That's more than he could have said about Katherine, of that he's sure.

"I'm proud of you," Amelia says. He's stunned in place by her words. She's never told him anything of the sort. "I might not tell you this often enough, but I am. You do what the rest of us can't, Stefan. You're stronger than me." He doesn't like the concession, nor does he like this self-deprecating streak she allows herself sometimes, but he knows she's rationalized her existence to herself in ways he hasn't yet.

"And Damon? Are you proud of him?" Stefan asks, because he doesn't know how else to react to Amelia's words. She's proud of him, yet deems it necessary to defend his brother's actions to herself and to him every time. Is that what it means to be a maker? Can her creations do nothing wrong? "Or does your love for him blind you?" Where does he fit into all of this?

"I am who I am, Stefan. I won't apologize for that." Same old song, Stefan thinks, but he manages a small smile. Amelia knows what to expect from him, as he does from her. He likes that about them. Her relationship with Damon is far more tempestuous. "Nor do I believe your brother should."

"Not even when he breaks your rules?" Stefan asks, less gravely.

"Same old Damon." Amelia shrugs, and smiles up at him. Maybe they both get Damon in their own way. "You don't carry his guilt, Stefan," Amelia adds, and rests her head on his shoulder.

Stefan isn't altogether sure that's true.

* * *

**(now)**

Stefan has already searched half of the town when he finds the alleyway; the smell is distinct and clear. There's human blood pooled on the ground. _Jeremy's_. Stefan closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Damon, _damn him_! How could he do this to Elena? He can understand his hatred towards Alaric and even Jeremy to some extent, after what they did to Amelia and before finding out she was still alive, but isn't there any compassionate bone in his brother's body? No, isn't there an ounce of _rationality_ inside Damon? He has to realise how stupid it is to kill in this town, how dangerous a time it is for any vampire?

How can he ever face Elena again?

"Stefan?" Elena's voice sounds from behind him as if his mind has conjured it up. He gets up fast and walks over to her, making sure he shields her from the sight of the blood in the alley. It's dark, Elena won't be able to see it if it's not pointed out. Should he tell her? _Can_ he tell her at this point? He halts in his tracks when he sees Elena's bloody hands.

"Your hands—" he starts, but Elena buries her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

"It's not mine. I'll explain later," she says, and swallows hard. She can't believe her uncle's blood on her hands just became a trivial detail. What has her life come to? Ever since she met Stefan her life has been nothing but a nightmare it seems. But she knows the trouble only really started once Damon came into her life. Stefan doesn't carry any blame. "Did you find Jeremy?" Elena asks anxiously, hugging her arms closer to her body.

"No, I haven't," Stefan answers, looking at her worriedly. He can't bring himself to tell her this. Damon killed her brother. Damon _killed_ Jeremy. And Amelia's blood changed him into a vampire. Jeremy is becoming the very thing he hates about himself, about his brother, and even, yes, about Amelia. How can anything ever be the same again?

"Can't you..." Elena shakes her head, "... smell him or something?"

"I've tried," he lies, and he realises that in any other situation that would have been a funny question to him. But right now, with his entire world coming down around him, he can't find the sentiment anywhere in his heart. "I can't find him." Where would Jeremy have gone? Would he have gone to look for Damon yet again? Or maybe go see his uncle? When Jonathan Gilbert finds out his nephew is a vampire, what will he do?

"What if—" Elena's eyes fill up with tears beyond her control. She can't lose her brother as well. How will she survive? "Oh my God, Stefan, what if he's gone?" she asks. What if Damon really did get his hands on her brother? What if the blood on his shirt had been Jeremy's? How will she ever handle that? How will she ever be able to look at Damon again? Was she wrong to give him her trust?

Stefan's arms around her seconds later are the only things keeping her together. He doesn't want to lie to her, nor does he feel it's right to keep this from her. But in this case ignorance might still be bliss for a little while longer. "We'll find him," Stefan whispers. "I promise."

**

* * *

**

He's pacing back and forth in the living room when he hears the front door opening. His every nerve is on edge, a tightness packed around his heart like a fist. _What_ is taking the history teacher so long? Was he right to distrust him after all? Would he try to kill Amelia again, even when he knows she's protected by magic? But then the door opens and he's in the hallway a split second later. "Where the hell have you—" Damon starts, but when he lays eyes on the boy he killed a few hours earlier, he's stopped short. "Jeremy," he says, but regret only touches his heart for a fraction of a second, because in Jeremy's arms, unconscious and still wounded, lies Amelia. "What happened to her?" Damon rushes over to Jeremy. He can tell it's vervain that's affecting her; what the hell has the Council been doing to her?

"I don't know," Jeremy answers, surprised by the proximity Damon allows between the two of them. He seems genuinely concerned for Amelia's wellbeing. Are vampires capable of love? Stefan seems to be, but Damon is not his brother. And Stefan isn't the vampire that took Vicky from him, that turned him into whatever he's becoming. "I found her like this," he adds.

"Found her—" Damon's voice trails off again. What Jeremy tells him doesn't make any sense. Even if Alaric turned out not to be trustworthy, why did he go through the trouble of freeing Amelia? Why didn't he just leave her for Jonathan Gilbert or one of the sheriff's deputies to finish off? Why did he leave her? Damon shakes his head, because in the end none of that matters now. Only Amelia does. "Mel," Damon calls, brushing her long red hair from her face. There's blood running down her chin, and her shirt is still bloody from where Jeremy had planted the wooden stake in her. "Amelia," Damon calls out again, but she doesn't even stir in Jeremy's arms. "Damn it," he curses, and puts his arms under her lifeless body. "I got her," he tells Jeremy, and notices Jeremy lets her go reluctantly. _Curious_, he thinks, how easy it is for so many to trust Amelia, but not him.

It isn't until the moment Amelia's full weight hits his arms that Damon allows himself the breath he's been holding for days. Something in him still aches at the thought of all this being his fault; Vicky, Isobel, and now Jeremy. Whatever happens after this, whether Amelia decides he's still worth her time, whether his brother can still see anything redeemable in him, whether Elena can inconceivably forgive him; all of it, all the pain caused is his fault. Maybe Amelia was right; Katherine made him into a monster, and he's never once questioned that. He'd never earned his immortality.

He rushes Amelia upstairs to the room she vacated only a few days before, putting her down on the bed carefully. He stares down at her for a few moments, torn and bloody. Everything she'd ever done had been for him, he knows that now, and what had he ever done to repay her? Her words had always been lost on him, her advice and her rules as well. The only one to ever listen was Stefan. He'd chosen to hate his brother, once, because Katherine chose Stefan over him, but what did that matter now? He could never hate his brother for listening to Amelia the way he never did.

So he chooses to now.

Jeremy is still downstairs when he joins him again; he grabs Jeremy by the arm and drags him downstairs to the basement. "Hey, what are you doing?" Jeremy complains, but Damon doesn't hear him. Yes, he'll do this for Amelia, he'll live up to the one rule she's always upheld; look out after the vampires one creates. He didn't do it for Isobel, but he can do it for Jeremy. But he has to take care of Amelia first.

"Sorry Jer," he says, and pushes Jeremy into the cell at the bottom of the stairs. "Safer if I know where you are." He sees panic striking Jeremy's eyes, but he closes the door without thinking about it. Amelia first, then it's time for more regrets. He can't help but think how much easier his life was before he returned to this town. Maybe he should never have returned at all. Everyone would have been much safer. "Pretty sure your sister will be by any time." Sooner or later, Elena will find her way back to the mansion and accuse him of everything he's earned twice over. But not just yet.

"Damon!" Jeremy shouts, pounding against the door, even though the strong wood won't budge.

Damon doesn't turn, and for now chooses not to hear.

Amelia hasn't moved an inch when he reaches her again. He can't imagine what sort of pain she's been going through; by any standard she should be dead. How much did Emily's magic protect her? Did it keep her from feeling that pain? Or did it just keep her on the edge of life? "Amelia," he whispers when he lies down next to her, his fingers trailing a path from her temple down her cheek, but once again, Amelia doesn't react to his voice. His arm trembles when he plants his fangs in his wrist and hovers it over Amelia's lips. Fear strikes him suddenly; what if he still ends up losing her? What if his blood isn't strong enough?

**

* * *

**

**(1876) **

They haven't seen each other for seven years.

When they catch each other's eyes from across the room, they find themselves responding to the other's presence quite unexpectedly.

A feeling ripples through him unlike anything he's experienced before in his human life or this new one, stronger than when he first laid eyes on her in that meadow, more violent a joy than the pain he felt when she chose his brother over him. But he finds it surprising that it should be joy, rather than resentment.

She's shook right down to the core of her, something primal and instinctual rejoicing at the sight of him, something loving and desire-full when she realises he's watching her in the exact same way. She doesn't know if she should allow herself to feel it, feel so much for one so young and naive, but she can't help herself. It's something stronger than her own will that captures her when she sees Damon make his way over to her.

"I was wondering when I'd see you again," she says as soon as he reaches her, and takes in the nicely tailored suit, the black polished shoes. He put in quite an effort, she thinks, but knows that the Salvatore family has always been accustomed to a certain amount of wealth.

"Disappointed?" he asks, his eyes not disguising the fact that they wander up and down her body, from the top of her hair, pinned up for the occasion, to the tips of her toes, adorned with dark-red heels the exact same tint of colour as her dress. Her dress, well, what can he really say about that? Amelia has always known what suits her, what turns heads, what lures in a prey. He thinks he's just become hers.

"Pleasantly surprised," Amelia purses her lips.

"And where is my dearest brother?" he asks, cautiously looking around the room, but he'd already established that Stefan wasn't with her. He doesn't know what he'd have done if Stefan had been the one on her arm. Now, there's a big muscular man on the other side of the room watching them closely, jealous of the fact that Amelia is talking to him. It shouldn't amuse him as much as it does. "Still deluding himself, no doubt." His eyes find hers again, and he feels the reminiscence of a beat inside his chest. She shouldn't be able to do this to him.

Amelia smiles softly. She knows he's hardly changed at all, but she never expected him to make any real effort. One day that might just be his downfall. "We all make choices, Damon," she answers, and takes a final step closer to him, the scent of him hitting her as strongly as ever, only this time it makes her realise just how much she's missed him. His companionship, the essence of him. Why is it him, and just him, that makes her feel alive?

"And you couldn't live with mine?" He's asking her questions he's long known the answer to, but he feels the need to defy her, to call her out, to make her say it. He wants to hear he's not worthy only to have the chance to one day prove himself. She owes him that much. He thinks.

"I don't mind the choices you make, Damon." Amelia looks at him, green eyes trying to unravel what the meaning of all this is, what makes her feel this way. It can't just be that Damon reminds her of her first love in her human life, and that somehow having lost that love her heart is reaching out for the next best thing. Emotionally, vampires are only enhancements of their once human selves. But she knows she doesn't have a heart. Not anymore. "I only mind when you break my rules in the process."

Damon tilts his head and leans in towards her. Her scent, sweet and floral underlain with something ancient he can't place, is something he will never forget, not even death could take that from him. "You've never broken any of your own rules?" he asks.

"Of course." Amelia smiles and stares up at him, musing over the idea of just telling him. She wants to tell herself that love is a curious thing, but she doesn't allow her conscious mind to define it as anything resembling love. _Care_, maybe, but not love. "You're living proof of that. So to speak," she adds, and all of a sudden Damon's eyes do that thing she hasn't yet been able to put in words; they mellow, not widen, but convey an affection with the very words she speaks that takes him by surprise as much as it does her to see it in him. "I see you've brought a date," Amelia amends fast, because there is no way she will be the one admitting to this first.

The young blonde is staring at them from the other end of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes dark. It's clear to both Damon and Amelia that she doesn't like to see the two of them together. Damon smiles to himself, but doesn't care about what anyone thinks of his proximity to Amelia. Especially not after her confession. Was he her mistake left undone and unchallenged? Clearly she didn't mind his presence that much. "She's been teaching me how to dance," he answers.

"And no doubt helping you in other areas too," Amelia says. He finds it curious to hear her speak of his extracurricular activities so callously, but he suspects some part of her is glad to see him too. She hides it well, but not nearly well enough. He can't help but wonder if that's intentional.

"What do you say we show them how it's done?" he asks, and holds out his hand for her. Amelia looks at him, but doesn't hesitate when she offers her hand. And then she's spinning around the room, Damon guiding her. She thinks he must have learned how to dance a long time ago, because he's too good to be a mere beginner. She learned long ago that Damon's words were to be taken with a grain of salt. Damon's arm tightens around her waist, and she dips, Damon levelling her body with the floor.

"I've missed you," he whispers against her skin, and plants a kiss in her neck.

* * *

**(now)**

When she opens her eyes, she's staring up at a dark night, a finger-painted comet stretched out across a starlit sky. She stirs lightly, the grass crackling beneath her. Where is she? She's aware that there's someone seated next to her in the grass, and when she looks at him, it's his eyes she notices first. He's staring at her so intently, eyes caring and concerned at the same time. "Amelia," he says, and she sits up in the grass, eyes still locked with his. "Everything's alright."

She knows she spoke those words herself once, a long time ago when the roles were different and things seemed simpler. "You—" she starts, but she knows she doesn't have to say whatever she leaves unsaid. He brought her back to life.

"Yes," he still answers, as if only to assure her that he does understand.

Something in her wants to thank him, for bringing her back to life, for pulling her back from the edge of the darkness that was heralding her closer. But she doesn't, because she remembers he once only thanked her for giving him immortality. A chance to be with another woman, to save her. That's why she gets up and runs, towards the church-_ablaze_, fire consuming the wooden structure, but not the vampires inside. They're hidden underneath.

"Amelia, _don't_!" the man calls outs behind her, and he's between her and her destination seconds later. He's not supposed to be faster than her, is he? "It's too late for those inside," he says, blue eyes begging her to see, to understand that they'd been there together before, but history doesn't have to repeat itself. They don't have to part ways from here. "But not for you."

She sighs, and shakes her head. "What's the point?" she asks. What's the point of this life? What's the point now that she can't die anymore, ever, and he's just as vulnerable as everyone else? What if she loses him yet?

He grabs her by the shoulders, fingers digging into her skin hard. "_We_ are," he insists strongly, and shakes her, shakes her, _shakes_ her, until she's forced to push him off her. She trips backwards over her dress, and feels gravity pulling her towards the ground.

She wakes in the bed with a start.

Her eyes need little time to adjust to the dark; she feels strangely invigorated. She raises a hand, and looks at it, stretching her fingers, flexing the muscles in her arm. There's vampire blood coursing through her veins, she realises. Damon's. It's only then that she turns her head, slowly, and looks at Damon lying next to her. He's asleep, probably exhausted after giving her his blood. She wonders how much he gave up. She raises her hand to Damon's face, but refrains from touching him. Best to let him sleep for now.

Amelia gets up from the bed unevenly, but is quick to find her balance again. She strips out of her button-down shirt, and her top, and moves into the bathroom. There's a circular scar right below her sternum, but the wound has closed, finally, and there's not an ache left in her body. When she looks at herself in the mirror, however, she realises she still looks a mess. She stumbles out of the rest of her clothes, making a mental note to go upstairs and steal an outfit of Elena's to wear once she's out of the shower. Her suitcase is still in her car, left abandoned at the side of the road. She doesn't take off her jewellery.

The feel of the water hitting her is one of the most welcome feelings she's had in a long time, both hot and cold caressing down her skin and washing away her sins. She can hardly believe this past week; for it to have been only a week and a few days seems almost impossible, but it's true. So much has happened, and so much hasn't happened. She saved Damon from himself and a virus that was meant to kill both him and Stefan. She lost Damon to Katherine. She died for him. He took out his revenge the only way he knew how to. The sound of Jeremy's cries coming from downstairs in the basement is unmistakable. How is she ever going to justify this to Stefan and Elena?

She closes her eyes and decides it doesn't matter. What's done is done, there's nothing she can do, and Damon is the one who will have to live with the consequences of his actions.

Amelia walks back into the bedroom in her underwear, her hair still damp from the shower, and notices one of Elena's outfits is waiting for her on the dresser. She doesn't know if it was there before or not. Probably not, because the bed is suddenly devoid of Damon as well. Elena's jeans fit her almost perfectly; she's just pulling the black tank top over her head when she feels Damon's presence behind her. She wants to say something, but his chest connects with her bare back, and all she finds herself doing is take in a hushed breath. The startling sensation of his fingertips creeping around her torso leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "It's not fully healed," Damon says, his breath hot against her ear, index finger tracing the outlines of the scar left on her skin.

"I'm not sure it will," Amelia answers, afraid that if she moves she'll lose physical contact with him. It's insane how much the mere touch of Damon's cold hand laying flat against her skin can make her feel. She never wants to lose this again.

Damon sighs behind her, and moves back towards the bed, his fingers only leaving the lingering sensation of a touch. Amelia pulls the tank top down, pulling her necklace from under the fabric, but remains in place. She's afraid that moving means talking, rehashing a conversation they've had twice now, and Damon really must see. He has to realise.

"Do you hate me?" comes the inevitable question.

"I love you," Amelia says immediately, before he's even finished the thought, before the words have fully formed and hit the ether completely. He mustn't ever think that. "You must never mistake that for anything else, Damon, even if I tell you otherwise." She turns and looks him in the eyes, Damon's blue ones pleading with her to tell her something else entirely. "You cannot fathom my love for you."

That's not the kind of love he wants her to admit to. And she knows that. Damon hangs his head, burying his face in his hands. Amelia wants to be able to tell him, speak the words he so desperately wants to hear from her. That she loves him, emotionally and physically, independent of her blood running through his veins, that they could have fallen in love despite of that when meeting somewhere else in another time. In another place altogether.

"If I ever took my distance from you it was because I understood your feelings for Katherine," Amelia explains, avoiding the most crucial admission. That she does love him like that; she knew that from the moment she laid eyes on him in that meadow. "I was the same when I turned." She walks over to him, and sits down on the ground in front of him.

"A monster?" Damon asks, wondering if she will reiterate her previous statement, if she will tell him that yes, he is a monster and he doesn't deserve any of this; this life, her love, Elena's friendship, Stefan's love.

Amelia hesitates, but not because she fears what her words will do to Damon. She hesitates because she will be revealing so much of herself. "Yes," she says. She's a monster just like him, far worse than him because she's killed so many more than he ever will, not just in her vampire life. Damon looks up at her, not understanding. Why would she tell him that? What is she telling him? "When I was human I was consumed with keeping my family safe. Protect the ones I love. And I still do. Mercilessly." She spend her first few centuries protecting her lineage, kill those that killed them, without giving it a second thought. "I died fighting to protect my family, at the end of a Roman blade."

Damon feels his lips part, but the question doesn't get past. _What_ is she telling him?

"It's my first instinct," Amelia says, never once taking her eyes off Damon. She raises a hand to his face, and touches his cheek. "I would die for you, Damon." And not just because her blood is part of him.

It's still not what he's looking for, but he realises she did die for him, despite knowing what he did to deserve that stake from Jeremy. He might not have killed Elena like Jeremy had believed, but he took Vicky from him.

"It's Emily's magic, isn't it?" Amelia asks. "Keeping me together?" She doesn't know how that makes her feel. At first she thought it was just her heart, finally turned completely into stone, but she'd seen vampires older than her die at the end of a stake all the same. Emily's magic was the only other explanation. But why? Damon was never completely untrustworthy, especially not when it came to Katherine.

Damon only nods in response. "Stefan will be here soon," Damon says, realising that just like him Amelia must be able to hear Jeremy screaming downstairs. "With Elena." He hangs his head again, but refuses to shed any tears. That's not him. That's never been him. What has this town done to him? Why should it be his home that affects him so much? Why hasn't he tore it down like he had first intended?

Amelia raises herself up on her knees, and hugs her arms around Damon's neck. She hugs him, tight, neither of them speaking another word. But Damon knows that with holding him like this, she agrees with him that life is far simpler when they choose not to feel at all.

* * *

**(1876)**

The blonde's blood spills freely when he plants his fangs in her creamy-white skin, the young girl dazed and calm in his arms. "I won't kill her," Damon says, and looks up at Amelia, just finished with her own snack, laying compelled and unconscious on the pin-striped sofa. "Not if you don't want me to."

"You're a monster, Damon," Amelia gets up from the couch, her dress sweeping softly over the floor, and sits down by the girl's side. She knows she's had a few glasses too many, and the alcohol in her meal's bloodstream does nothing to aid that, but Damon is right about one thing. She's a vampire, with no responsibilities at the moment other than keeping this girl alive. The world won't always be like this, not with a scientific revolution upon them. Why not live a little now?

"Takes one to know one," Damon grins, blood dripping sluggishly down his chin.

Amelia throws her head back and laughs, loudly.

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**if you can please let me know what you think!  
**

historic trivia round #2: blood banks only started coming into existence in the early 1910s :)**  
**


	16. Heart Of Stone

**author's notes:** HUGE apologies for taking this long to post another chapter! i had the biggest case of writer's block this past month BUT! in the mean time i've become the proud owner of a Bachelor's degree in Linguistics, so yay me? thanks a million for putting up with me, my dear readers, i'd be nothing without you. hope you all like the new chapter!

- this chapter is dedicated to **Dawnie-7**, i think she knows why :) -

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**

chapter 16: heart of stone

* * *

His hands are literally trembling around the steering wheel, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He can't believe he's here, in this car, seated next to his wife, Isobel, even though all reason had once told him that she'd be dead. But here she is now, dead silent in the passenger seat by his side, alive and kicking – in a manner of speaking – while he drives them somewhere just outside of town. She'd told him to, not compelled him, but something inside of him had obeyed without objection anyway. How could he not when so many of his questions have gone unanswered for the past five years?

He stares at her from the corner of his eye carefully, part of him afraid that she might lash out and act out on a vampire impulse. How did this happen? Was this Damon's doing? Instead of killing Isobel all those years ago, Damon chose to turn her? But strangely, thinking about Damon's part in all of this, he can't find himself getting more angry at Damon than he already is. Because deep down, after five years of digging through every facet of Isobel's life, after rationalizing her disappearance to himself, he knows that just maybe this had been her own choice. Maybe, just maybe, Isobel had wanted to become the very thing she'd been studying.

"Don't worry, Rick," Isobel says suddenly, with a cold detachedness in her voice that almost has him doubting whether this really is Isobel to begin with. There's little of the woman he once knew in her. What was it that Damon had once told him? A vampire's instinct is not to feel. Is that what Isobel is doing now? "You'll get your answers soon enough."

He stops the car in front of the abandoned warehouse Isobel had directed him towards. He has no idea what they're doing here, why they had to go this far just to talk. His train of thought doesn't do anything to calm his nerves. Alaric dares another glance at Isobel, but before he has a chance to bring her into focus she gets up from her seat and is out of the car, walking a distance away from his car.

It's only then that he notices another car is parked in front of the warehouse. Jonathan Gilbert emerges no five seconds later. Alaric is out of the car in no time. What is Jonathan Gilbert doing with Isobel? Isn't she everything he's trying to destroy? "What the hell is going on here?" Alaric asks, walking over to the both of them.

Isobel looks at John slowly, before they both look back towards him. "We have a proposition for you," John says.

* * *

She's not proud. Part of her knows that everything animal and instinctual inside of her was there before she turned, back when she was still human and living in the savagery that is now known as Germanic Europe. Things were different back then, every day was a struggle, a fight against another tribe, the Romans, and anyone else that wanted a piece of them. But she knows that after all this time, not so much has changed. She's changed, crucially, but humanity hasn't. At the very best they've gotten more inventive in their struggle for life. So she's not proud of what she is, what she was, what she might yet become.

Right now she wants to tell herself that things have gone horribly wrong. She couldn't have known that Jeremy would try to kill Damon, that she'd jump between him and Damon to sacrifice her own life so that Damon could live. She couldn't have known that she'd come back to life. But she should have known there was only one possible way in which Damon could have reacted to her death; the same way she had to her family's death once – by more killing, by taking out her revenge. She wants to tell herself it was wrong, that Damon deserved this guilt twice over and _should_ feel pain over what he did. But she knows she herself never would. Not even to this day.

That's what she's not proud off. She was an animal long before ever becoming a vampire.

Damon follows her to the basement in silence, their footsteps barely audible as they descend the short set of stairs. Amelia can feel Damon's pain radiating off him. It's in his careful footsteps, in his shallow breathing, but most of all it's in his eyes. He'd always felt strongly about things, let it affect him in ways incomprehensible to others. She can even imagine that in his human life Damon Salvatore was quite the jealous type, so she can't imagine what it is like for him now. But she can guess.

"W-what's happening to me?" is the first thing out of Jeremy's mouth when he turns and faces them from the corner he's occupying, the one furthest from the door of the cell. He has two fingers inside his mouth, prying at his teeth. Amelia remembers how it feels all too well, despite it having been so long ago she knows the pain of transitioning as if it had been yesterday. "My gums—" Jeremy adds, but doesn't finish his utterance.

"You're transitioning, Jeremy," Amelia answers calmly, and Damon thinks only briefly about how she's the only one who could sound like that in a situation such as this. It's only then, for the first time in a hundred and fifty years that he wonders, are there other vampires out there created by Amelia? He suddenly feels selfish for thinking he could be the only one. But then, would it be so wrong to think of himself as the only one? He can't ask her, not now.

"Into one of you?" Jeremy's voice comes out a strangled cry of distress. "How is that even possible?" he shakes his head. He's well aware of how he died at Damon's hands, but was that it? A bite from a vampire was all it took?

Amelia takes a breath, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She knows there's no longer any need to spare Jeremy's feelings over this; they've long since passed that moment. "If you die with vampire blood in your system, it revives you," she explains.

"Damon didn't—" Jeremy starts, but his breath catches in his throat.

"But I did." Amelia responds to his distress immediately; she goes to her knees in front of him, hoping to comfort him, but Jeremy remains in his corner, his knees hugged close to his body, hair tousled. Jeremy shakes his head, but he knows she's right. Amelia had fed off him first, and saved his life by feeding him her blood in return. "I did it to save you," Amelia says, but Jeremy doesn't look at her again. She can't blame him for that. "—only now it seems I've condemned you. Soon you will have to make the choice."

"Choice?" Jeremy's eyes shoot from her to Damon. Why he looks at Damon he doesn't know, all he knows is what he's known for several days now; he's becoming the very thing he loathes the most, the thing Alaric had told him to kill, the thing his uncle hunted, and his father before him. But none of them had every talked about a choice. If there was any choice, doesn't Amelia know he long since would have made it?

"Either you complete the transformation, or—" Amelia hesitates. This is it, right here, the moment where she tells Jeremy to chose between two kinds of deaths, one of the body, one of the soul. A choice she was never given, so she'd extended it to all those she had turned, including Damon. In all her centuries, Damon had been the only one to ever choose death. But she knows that somewhere between Damon truly dying, and feeding her the blood to complete his transformation, her reasoning isn't quite what it should be. Maybe she hadn't really given Damon a choice.

"Or what?" Jeremy asks frightfully.

"Or you die," Damon answers. For some reason, he feels as if Jeremy should hear this condemnation from him, instead of Amelia. He knows Jeremy already trusts Amelia more than him, something he can hardly blame him for.

Jeremy hesitates for only a second before standing up. "You—_ did_ this to me!" he shouts.

Amelia is on her feet in a split second as well. "Jeremy..." she starts, but Jeremy startles her by lunging himself forward towards her.

"Don't you defend him!" Jeremy shouts, almost rushing her, but Damon is between him and Amelia faster than his eyes can register. What is it with Damon and Amelia? Why do they defend each other like this? Can vampires truly feel that kind of love for each other? But he's far too angry to give it any serious thought, or allow the thought to calm him down. "You're just as much to blame! You fed off me and gave me your blood. And for what? To save me, for—for _this_? I will _never_ become one of you," he sneers, not backing away from Damon one inch.

Amelia turns and walks out of the cell, waiting for Damon to join her outside. Seconds later Damon's footsteps are behind her, and she hears the lock of the door snapping shut in place. Her back is to Damon, because for the first time in what she's become to regard as an eternity, she doesn't know how to handle the situation. She won't judge Damon for what he did to Jeremy, but how will she be able to face Stefan? There's always been a rivalry between them, not just for Katherine's love once upon a time, but Damon had made it clear they were rivals over her affections as well. How can she keep this from falling apart?

"Are you going to let him die?" Damon's voice breaks through her scattered train of thought, and she turns towards him slowly. "Elena won't—" Damon shakes his head, but Amelia's speaking again before he has a chance to figure out what he was going to say in the first place. Elena would never let it happen. He's not sure she could.

"It's not Elena's choice to make," Amelia says, seemingly surprised by his words. Is it such a strange question to ask? But no, Damon thinks, for some reason Amelia has always held strongly to her rules. He'd always hated them, had revolted against them like a teenager rebelling against his parents, but he knows he won't get away with trying to break them now. He knows he should take responsibility for what he did to Jeremy, and that he shouldn't allow Amelia to feel guilty over something he did, but he can't help it. She's so much better at this than him.

"You told me once no one chooses death," Damon says, and hears the words echoed at the back of his mind, the way she'd spoken to him over a century ago. He turns the cell door key over in the palm of his hand.

Amelia smiles to herself softly; it's funny that it should be Damon to tell her that, when long ago he was the first she met that wanted to die. He didn't want to live in a world where Katherine didn't exist. It's difficult to think of Damon as a romantic. "You did," Amelia answers, and closes the distance between them in a few slow strides, placing one of her hands over his heart. She's barely touching him, but it's close enough for him to feel it. "Before your brother tempted you." Before Stefan led that girl into the meadow for his brother to feed on; the one thing Stefan always wished he could undo.

Damon looks at her, a slight panic taking hold of him. Is she trying to imply something about his love for Katherine, about how it could never rival the love he has for Amelia? "That was because I thought Katherine was dead," he says too fast. He wills his heart to beat, if just one dull thud to prove how much stronger his love for her is. "I didn't see the point in—" but he stops, because his mouth has suddenly caught up with his brain, and he knows Amelia has already heard this before. She has to know though, she _has_ to realise.

_What's the point?_ Amelia hears her dream-question reverberating throughout her thoughts. _We__ are!_ dream-Damon had answered, and it's the only reason why Amelia finds herself disregarding the mention of Katherine. It had been her subconscious mind speaking rather than the real Damon, but it's proof that deep down she knows exactly what Damon feels for her. She's turned other humans into vampires, but none she loved. "I know," she says, and places her other hand on Damon's cheek.

Damon draws himself another step closer, his body connecting with Amelia's, one of his hands cupping the back of Amelia's neck. They both take in a shuddery breath as their noses touch, closing their eyes, the memory of the last time they did this still so fresh and vivid in their minds it's difficult not to go back; just two bodies alone in a room with nothing else to worry about but the touch of skin. Damon doesn't know what it is about this non-distance between them that drives him this crazy; he's already crazy about her, but something gets added when he has her this close. All rational thought – or what rational thought he's capable of – leaves him, and there's only her. Only them.

It's when Amelia rakes her fingers through his hair, grabbing the back of his head hard that he captures her lips in an instant. Amelia breathes in sharply through her nose when Damon's lips connect with hers, and wraps her arms around his neck. Before she knows it Damon's tongue pushes past her teeth, his arms are around her torso, and he's forcing her back against the wall, his body settling pliant against hers. The rough stones cut into her back, but she doesn't let on. She's never wanted anyone more than Damon right now.

Amelia moans, and Damon digs deeper, begging entrance into a place he's been trying to get at for such a long time already; Amelia's heart.

Upstairs, the front door opens so violently that it connects with the hallway wall, and almost shakes the house to its foundations. It's Elena and Stefan, finally having made their way back to the mansion.

Damon releases Amelia's lips from the shock of it, but Amelia's arms keep him place. He knows she means to say something, about him being strong enough, about everything being alright. But he doesn't need her to; it's not his place to ask any sort of comfort from her now. Part of him can't understand why she's about to support him through this.

He follows her back upstairs, up the same steps they descended not twenty minutes ago. They make it into the house before either Stefan or Elena can see where they came from, but Amelia can already see the suspicion in Stefan's eyes. She briefly wonders where else they looked for Jeremy before coming back here.

"Is he here?" Elena asks anxiously, brushing her hair back behind her ears, bouncing impatiently from one foot to the other. "Is Jeremy here?" Stefan, Damon and Amelia can hear how her heart is jack hammering in her chest.

There's another beat, followed by a dead silence. "He's downstairs," Amelia says eventually, crossing her arms over her chest.

Elena finds Amelia's eyes devoid of any sort of emotion. What is she trying to tell her? "What?" Elena asks, shaking her head, because maybe deep down she already knows the answer. Her brother could be— he could be dead.

Amelia doesn't avert her eyes; she doesn't even consider it. There's only one way to put a tragedy like this to any person. "I'm sorry, Elena."

Elena's face falls. She looks at Amelia, then Damon, then to Stefan who's standing next to her. Their expressions tell her all she needs to know. "Oh my God," she breathes, looking at Damon again the next second, but he's cast down his eyes. And then she runs, to where she knows Jeremy will be locked up.

Stefan means to follow her immediately, but Amelia's voice stops him in his tracks. "Stefan," Amelia says, and he stops, but he can't look at her. He can't help but feel betrayed by her, in league with his brother. But Amelia isn't about to make any excuses, like he'd expected. She takes a key from Damon's hand, and holds it out for him. "Make sure he doesn't—" she starts, but he turns to her roughly.

"He's her _brother_," Stefan sneers, meaning to say that Jeremy could never hurt Elena, or the other way around. And then he looks at Damon, repeating the same words to his brother with his eyes. _He's her brother!_ they scream at Damon; he feels Amelia's hand on his chest, holding him back. She knows him too well. She knows _them_ too well. It's not even been said, that Jeremy is turning into a vampire because of Amelia's blood in his system and Damon killing him, but he can already feel their bond unravelling. Stefan knows that she'll stand by his brother, no matter what happens. Something's different between them.

Amelia can almost feel Stefan and Damon shaking where they stand. But she won't stand for this, not now, not now that Damon needs her and Elena needs Stefan. She pulls Stefan back by the arm, placing the cell door key in his hand. "She's human," Amelia says, and looks him in the eyes coldly. "And he's transitioning." There. It's been said. "I don't want her in there without one of us with her."

She does the one thing she has down to perfection. She turns her heart into stone.

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**if you can please let me know what you think!  
**


	17. Ourselves And Immortality

**author's notes:** my God, school has been kicking my ass so hard! this chapter was mostly written in class, but i like how it turned out (wouldn't be posting otherwise). hope you all like it as well, thank you so much for all your reviews/comments, you guys rock my world and give me the strength to keep going!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**

chapter 17: ourselves and immortality

* * *

Too many things have happened in the last couple of days for her to wrap her mind around them properly. Sheriff Forbes clutches her hands around the wheel tightly, trying hard not to recollect the talk she had with Mayor Lockwood earlier, but it's difficult not to run through the conversation again. He'd called her as incompetent as her derelict daughter; the words had stung, and him insulting Caroline had send her into her own ravings about how Tyler Lockwood wasn't exactly a poster boy for this town. By the time they were done shouting, pulled apart by Carol Lockwood, they weren't even talking about Amelia anymore.

Safe to say, so far she wasn't having the best day. She rubs the back of her head when she gets out of the car, her skull still sore from where Amelia had knocked it into the wall. She can't believe she let this get away from her; they finally had a chance to get solid information about the tomb vampires. _How had Amelia broken free?_ the Mayor had inquired, but the sheriff didn't have anything remotely resembling an answer to that. By the time she had left Damon in the main hall and made her way back to the room they were keeping Amelia, the two deputies outside the door had been knocked out. But then what was Amelia still doing inside the room? Why had she not fed on her deputies? Where had she gotten the bag of blood she was consuming when she herself entered the room?

One thing had become clear when she'd regained consciousness: someone had helped Amelia escape. Could it have been one of the tomb vampires? There is even one scenario, that had popped up when Mayor Lockwood had asked her exactly what she was doing while Amelia was escaping, that had send her mind reeling. Was Damon a distraction? She's turning the idea over and over in her head as she makes her way towards the Salvatore boarding house. No, she thinks, not Damon; he's done so much for them, helped them, saved her life. And he'd been genuinely angry at Amelia for deceiving him. Still, by the time she rings the doorbell and hears footsteps coming closer, it's like her entire world has been turned upside down.

It's Damon that opens the door. "Liz," he says, seemingly surprised to see her. "What can I do for you?" Her worries are instantly gone when she lays eyes on him, once again offering her a helping hand. But that's not exactly why she's here.

"It's Amelia," the sheriff answers, looking at him sternly. "She's escaped."

Damon's eyes grow wide, and he takes a step outside, half-closing the door behind him. The sheriff figures he probably doesn't want Elena or Stefan to hear this; she's noticed Elena's car parked in the driveway. "She what?" Damon asks, shaking his head in question, and crosses his arms over his chest. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," she half-lies; it's true that she knows that someone helped Amelia escape, but she has no idea who that person is. "She managed to cut herself free somehow."

"Did anyone get hurt?" Damon asks.

"No." She had found it rather curious; if Amelia had been helped by one of the tomb vampires wouldn't they have left a pile of dead bodies in their wake? "If she shows up here—" can she really ask Damon to keep his cool around Amelia? Jonathan Gilbert had made it perfectly clear that he wanted Amelia alive; if she had to believe him she was the only one who could lead them to where the other vampires were hiding.

"You think that's a possibility?" Damon frowns. "I mean, if she's smart she's skipped town by now."

The same thought had already crossed her mind. Now that she's exposed, Amelia has no reason to stick around. "I know. _Damn it_," the sheriff curses. "The mayor's all over my ass, and when Jonathan Gilbert finds out— I screwed up."

"Hey, you can't blame yourself." Damon takes a step towards her, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "She's a vampire, and she was good. She fooled all of us."

She's reminded suddenly that out of all of them, Damon had been fooled the most. She can't help but wonder if Damon ever had any real feelings for Amelia; she has a hard time picturing that. "How are you holding up?" she asks, because truthfully, Damon looks horrible, his clothes dishevelled.

"Oh, me?" Damon's eyes brighten, almost as if he can command them to. "I'm fine," he shrugs, and smiles a crooked grin. "You know me, Liz. I always bounce right back." She hears what Damon says loud and clear, but something tells her it's not quite true; he seems too quiet, the whole house ominously silent. It's almost as if some sort of grief has seeped into the architecture, Damon included.

"Sheriff Forbes," she hears behind her suddenly. The sheriff half-turns, and Bonnie joins her and Damon on the front porch.

"Bonnie," the sheriff says. "Are you here to see Elena?"

"Yeah," Bonnie nods, and stares down at her feet.

The sheriff notices how Damon looks at Bonnie, his eyes narrowing, but he keeps whatever he's thinking to himself. "Watch your back, okay?" the sheriff adds, looking at Damon strongly, and turns to walk away.

"Will do," Damon calls after the sheriff, moving back to open the door for Bonnie. "Elena's downstairs," he tells her, but stays outside himself; Amelia had asked him to run a little errand, and he'll grasp at any straw to get out of the house for a while, especially now that the little judgemental witch has joined them too. Bonnie stays silent in Damon's presence. That in itself is judgement.

Bonnie doesn't know what to think when Damon tells her Elena is downstairs; Elena had told her that there's a cell down there that had once served to lock up Damon. What would Elena be doing there now? She descends the small set of stairs hurriedly, finding Elena on a chair outside the cell door, her face buried in the palms of her hands. "Elena," she says, and walks over to her friend fast. "What's going on?"

Her heart falls when Elena looks up at her, her eyes completely tear-shot. Last time she saw Elena like this was when Stefan was dying. Now, Stefan comes out of the cell when she reaches Elena, and closes the door behind him. "He killed him, Bonnie," Elena cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bonnie has no idea what she's talking about, but clutches her arms around Elena in a tight hug. "Damon killed Jeremy."

"_What?_" Bonnie frowns to herself, looking at Stefan over Elena's shoulder in question. But all Stefan does is cast down his eyes; it tells her more than she cares to know. "Oh my God," she exclaims, wrapping her arms around her friend in protection. "How could Damon do that?" she asks, shaking her head, not once taking her eyes off Stefan. He knows that part of Bonnie will never trust him, despite his undying love for Elena, but his connection to Damon will never endear him to her. He can't even blame her for that a little bit.

Stefan decides it's better he leaves Bonnie and Elena alone for a while; Bonnie is Elena's best friend and will know exactly what Elena needs right now. Part of him wants to be able to know that about her without having to learn it, but Elena has already lost so much in the past. And now, it's _his_ past that caught up with them. He realises now, in these moments, how very much he does carry Damon's guilt. Perhaps even more than his brother does.

And as if that wasn't enough to realise already, he runs into Amelia upstairs, making her way through the hallway; she has a bag of blood in her hands. Stefan knows it's meant for Jeremy. He knows that Jeremy has to make a choice, that he'd already spoken against becoming one of them, so what is Amelia doing? He refuses to think that she's feeling the same conflict he is: he can't let Jeremy turn into the monster he is, but how can he allow Jeremy to die?

"Where's Damon?" Stefan asks, making conversation that he'd rather avoid, but silence at this point would be rude, and well, he will always owe Amelia so many things. If not his guilt, then at least some semblance of a human soul.

"Getting my stuff out of my car," Amelia answers, turning the bag of blood over in her hand. She knows that Damon doesn't mind the time away from this entire situation; she knows it's no different for Stefan, who doesn't need his brother around right now. She would have gone with Damon, because she can imagine Stefan doesn't particularly want to see her either, but with the whole town on the lookout for her, Amelia is safer indoors.

Stefan is suddenly reminded of the events that led them there, how worried he had been about Amelia's wellbeing not a day before, how much pain he'd felt over the news of her death. And then something inside him mellows, because Amelia _isn't_ Damon, she's not the vampire Damon or he is, she's a mentor and a confidant, and something so very close to the mother he had long since lost in his human life. He takes a breath, and looks at her. "I'm glad to see you're alright," he says. What would he do without her?

"What would you have done to Damon if I hadn't been?" It's like she reads his mind. Is she trying to rile him up? Does she want him angry at his brother? He's not a match for his brother, he's always known that, but if Amelia hadn't stopped him, it would have turned into an ugly fight.

"He killed Jeremy." He doesn't say it. He can't say it.

"I am as much to blame for that as Damon is," Amelia says, and takes a step closer to him. So that's it, she wants him to pass judgement on her as well, to place the blame with her as well as Damon. "It was my blood in his system." But she had done that to save Jeremy's life. How can he blame her for acting out on perhaps the one human impulse still alive inside her?

"You're not the one who killed him," Stefan insists.

"If it hadn't been for me he really would be dead." No, Stefan thinks, Amelia won't convince him that she's the bad guy here. It's easier to blame Damon. It's easier to blame someone outside of himself. But he brought this into Elena's life. Maybe in the end he's the one to blame; he knows that kind of logic burned his mind not too long after he turned. The curse of his pure heart. "But then I suppose you'd prefer that," Amelia adds, her words landing so hard that he reacts to them immediately.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snaps, shaking with anger and confusion. What does that mean? What do any of his choices mean to Amelia or Elena, or even Jeremy, now? "Elena is..."

"Everything," Amelia fills in the word that Damon had once used to describe his attachment to Katherine. "I know that," Amelia nods, and understands completely. She knows the conflict of being a vampire. "And I've never questioned that." No, she hasn't, Stefan thinks, but what is she trying to say? "But you have. Many times." What is the meaning? Stefan can't help but wonder what Amelia hopes to gain from this. Is she trying to say that the choice is not his, and never will be Elena's, but Jeremy's only? _Yes_. "I know that if you could go back to 1864 and make that choice again, you would choose death."

Yes, of course he would. In a heartbeat. And yet, whatever part of him that's selfish and stupid and intrinsically connected to his seventeen-year old _forever_-state knows he'd have problems deciding again, knowing what he knows now. Knowing about Elena. "You're saying you wouldn't?" Stefan asks, because he can't help but think they're both reaching some sort of truth. "You would have chosen _this_?" He staggers a step closer to Amelia.

Amelia looks up at him calmly, thinking through her answer but finding it easily. "Yes," she says. Yes, of course she would have. In a heartbeat. "If I had been offered the choice all those centuries ago, I would have chosen to become a vampire."

Does that mean she was never given a choice? "Why?" Stefan frowns.

_Easy_, Amelia thinks. "It gave me the strength to save my family." That's all that mattered back then. It's all that matters right now. It's the most important thing in her world. "It still does."

Stefan finds little to argue with. But she chose her family in him and Damon. Before Stefan has a chance to make any sort of reply, Elena and Bonnie come up from the basement. Elena has somewhat cleaned up, but when she lays eyes on Amelia, and the bag of blood in her hand, she stops dead in her tracks. "No," she whispers, and shakes her head.

"Elena—" Amelia starts, trying to take a step closer, but Stefan grabs her arm before she has the chance to finish. She looks at him, eyes darkening in warning.

Stefan paces himself, releasing Amelia's arm. "We could..." he says softly, but Amelia's already shaking her head. There's nothing he can do, he knows that, but Elena is right there and oh God, if only he had the answers right now. But once again, always, it's Amelia that does the teaching.

"It's not the way, Stefan," she says, and looks him deep in the eyes. How can she tell him this when she knows it's breaking his heart? Elena's heart? But she's right, the choice is not his or Elena's to make. He knows that in the end, very few choose death.

"We could try," he insists nonetheless, because it seems like the right thing to do in this world constructed only of wrongs.

"What are you talking about?" Elena frowns, daring to take another step closer. Part of her refuses to ever trust Amelia again, because she's clearly chosen Damon's side. Another part of her knows that Amelia has been living this far longer than Damon and Stefan combined. Isn't there anything she can do to save her brother?

Amelia casts down her eyes; surprisingly this is the one thing she can't put to Elena straight. She knows that Elena and Stefan are looking at her for answers, grasping at straws and alternatives. But once again it's her that has to present them with the cold hard truth of the situation. There is no other option. Jeremy has to choose. "Stefan wants to give Jeremy animal blood instead of human."

Elena's eyes shift between Amelia and Stefan. "Isn't that better?" she asks anxiously, finding sudden hope where none is present. "I mean, if he can survive on it like Stefan—" Then he won't become the monster Damon is. Amelia knows all too well what she leaves unsaid. But Damon _is_ a monster, and so is she.

"It will delay his choice." Amelia stares at Elena, hoping to convey a meaning she's long since forgotten how to denominate. "It won't complete his transformation."

"You don't know that," Stefan says. Amelia looks up at Stefan and frowns. Why is he doing this? Why is he trying to give Elena hope when all there is in her future is watching her brother either die or turn into a vampire? But what Stefan really means to say is that it's an impossible choice, that no one should ever have to make it, even though his choice, all those years ago, was made in an instant.

He's making Amelia say it, so he doesn't have to. In a lot of ways Stefan has always been more selfish than his brother.

Amelia takes a breath, but knows exactly what to say. "Either we feed him animal blood and we allow him to think this through rationally, or we allow him to change now," she explains, looking at both Elena and Stefan. Bonnie is behind Elena, listening intently as well. "The choice remains either way." And then she looks at Elena alone. "I'm sorry, Elena, but this can't be undone."

Elena swallows, but something inside her revolts. "What about Emily's magic?" Elena asks. Amelia casts down her eyes. "It protected you, it can protect Jeremy." Elena turns and looks at Bonnie. "Bonnie?"

Bonnie feels panic striking her hard. Keeping Stefan alive for a while longer was one thing, he was already dead and her spell would never have ended up saving his life. "I—I'm sorry," Bonnie stutters, shaking her head. "I can't bring someone back from the dead, even if I was as powerful as Emily. I'm sorry, Elena, it's just—It's not possible." It breaks her heart to say it, but there's nothing she can do.

Elena wails, squeezing her eyes shut tightly right before turning around to face Amelia again. "How could you let him do this?" Elena shouts. Stefan moves between her and Amelia to hold her back, in an action that he owes Amelia a few times over. _Why is everyone defending her?_ Amelia was supposed to be the one person that could handle Damon, tame him, hold him back. Why didn't she do that for her and her brother? "How can you _love_ him?" How can anyone love him? "He killed my brother!"

Amelia doesn't know where she finds the strength to keep her cool; if it had been Stefan talking to her she would have slammed him against the wall, sending her message to him hard, but she can't use that tactic on Elena. So she keeps calm. "Let me make one thing very clear to you, Elena," she says, coming as close to Elena as Stefan allows. "Your brother is not dead. Once he's changed, the world will become even more frightening and more confusing than it was before. And you need to be there for him. You'll need to be strong for him."

Elena's heart aches in her chest, tears filling up her eyes. So that's it, she thinks, that's all there is. Her brother will die, and the only thing she can do is be there for him. It's too cruel. Bonnie takes her in her arms again.

Amelia isn't proud of what she just did, but it needed to be done. She told Elena what to expect, and what to do. _Isn't that kinder?_ she thinks while she makes her way back in the living room. Before she has the chance to let it get to her, Damon walks through the front door with her bags. She hasn't noticed that Stefan followed her. "You're still defending him," Stefan says, and she turns towards his voice. Damon halts in his tracks, watching his brother and Amelia argue. "After everything that's happened." Stefan doesn't care who hears it. "How can you still think he will ever change?"

_No one changes_, she means to say, but she knows Stefan realises that all too well. He's asking her _why_ Damon, why _his brother_ instead of him? How is Damon better? How does he deserve her love? "You mean after all these years it still surprises you?" Amelia asks. Stefan frowns, as does Damon in the hallways; he hasn't made it much further than the front door. What is supposed to be surprising? "That I accept your brother for what he is."

No, Stefan thinks, not a surprise at all. Her love for him is not the same as her love for his brother, and even though he'll never be able to see Amelia the way he sees Elena, he can't accept that. Damon doesn't deserve to be loved. Stefan can't hide his anger. "Well, you would know," he says, turning his back on Amelia. "You're the one that created him."

It's an accusation, of guilt and blame at the same time, just like Amelia knew he would. She's just as much to blame in all of this. But it's the sort of logic that can leave a head spinning and leave an entire world in pieces. The kind of logic that is numbing. She's flawed, just as much as the next human or vampire or other creature that goes bump in the night. There's nothing either she or anything in this world can change about that. All anyone can do is live a life to the fullest. No one really changes.

She hears Damon's footsteps on the floor, and seconds later he rounds the corner. He looks at her, but doesn't say a word. Unlike Stefan, he's not going to ask her to say it, to tell him _why_, why _him instead_ of his brother, even though he now knows that the truth will not hurt him, but hurt Stefan. He'd hated his brother for so long, for Katherine turning him as well, for perhaps even choosing Stefan over him. But now, what does it matter now? It will always leave a mark – it's too old and deep sated for it not to, but what did his wish for Katherine to have turned him matter now?

They're still holding each other's gaze when Bonnie joins them. She's reluctant, and clearly keeping her distance, but she hides her fear well. "Amelia," she says softly. Her eyes are wide and questioning, because she notices something between Damon and Amelia that hadn't been there before. There's calm between them, almost tangible. She doesn't understand it. "Jeremy wants to talk to you," she adds, and frowns, because as soon as Amelia moves – within seconds of the words leaving her mouth – Damon follows, not like you'd expect anyone would, but it's almost as if he and Amelia are attached now.

Stefan has followed Elena upstairs to his room. The silence in the house is fear-filled.

When Amelia and Damon make it downstairs – once again – they find Jeremy in much the same position as before, huddled in the corner of the room, and he's even more twitchy than before. Of course, Damon thinks, his body is craving blood. He notices how Amelia has left the bag of blood upstairs. He only briefly wonders why, before realising that Jeremy hasn't made a choice yet. He's long since realised that Amelia never really gave _him_ a choice. Sure, she was the one who turned him, and she was by his side for many years after that, but she never stopped Stefan from tempting him. Not once.

"Why did you choose to ch-change?" Jeremy stutters, his hands shaking as he draws a hand through his hair. It's clumsy and misses its effect entirely.

That's it, Damon thinks, that's why Amelia left the blood upstairs. How could she have known that Jeremy only wanted to talk? But he knows that the call of the blood would have been stronger than anything else if it were there with them. Amelia sighs, and glances at Damon sideways; she knows the question was directed at her. She can't help but think that Damon's answer would be so much better for Jeremy; Damon changed because of love. His love for Katherine.

"I didn't have a choice," Amelia answers. Damon looks at her slowly, but only because he knows that any sudden reaction might stop her talking. More and more Amelia is revealing her past to them and he wants to be there for every second of it. But why now? Why here? Why to Jeremy? "_My creator_ came at night while I was sleeping in the field." Amelia walks over to a nearby chair and sits down. Damon remains standing, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "In the legends of my people he was known as an alp. I don't know if he meant to change me."

"Your people?" Jeremy asks, the same question on the tip of Damon's tongue. He only has eye for Amelia; he doesn't even care that all her attention is going to Jeremy.

"One of the Germanic tribes settled around the Rhine area," Amelia explains plainly. It makes no difference to her anymore. She has protected her past because there are people out there that would take advantage of her, but she knows she can trust Damon. Right now, she's reached the point where she'd rather have him know; she'd come too close to losing him. Twice. "I died in battle. It's probably what attracted my creator in the first place."

"What happened?" Jeremy scrambles up from his hunched position and sits up straighter. Just like Damon's, his interest is peeked.

"I was killed by a Roman officer." She doesn't say how the vampire blood had made its way into her system, simply because she doesn't know the answer herself.

"And?" Jeremy insists.

Amelia draws in a deep breath. Isn't it obvious then? "I killed him when I woke up again. Him and half his legion." It was quite simple really, even to this day, it's kill or be killed. Except no one had expected her to get back up and kill them back. And she'd been so thirsty. The dye in the tattoo on her back had protected her from the sun. "I never had a choice," Amelia sighs. Damon casts down his eyes. He wouldn't have wanted to be offered the choice by her. That was quite simple too. "It's not much of a choice to begin with."

"Elena can't tell me want to do," Jeremy's voice is shaking more and more. Soon his body will start dying. Amelia could tell Jeremy it's not her choice to make, but that's repeating something she's been telling everyone, including Elena. She wants to be cold enough to tell him that becoming a vampire isn't something he wants for himself, but Damon beats her to it.

"You don't want this life," Damon says, turning, and walks away. Amelia follows after him not long after. He doesn't know why he said it, because he's never regretted his choices, unlike his brother. But Jeremy still had people in his human life to care for, to love him. This isn't the life for him. "Mel," Damon says and turns to look at her. Amelia knows where this is going. The question is inevitable. "How old are you?" Damon asks.

"What makes you think I keep count?" Amelia smiles. She knows he's still struggling with his guilt over what he did to Jeremy, but she also knows that her presence is helping him. She's not proud of what he did, but for the first time since meeting him, Amelia can sense something resembling pride for him.

Damon grins. She's joking about it, that means he'll probably get his answer. "Because even Stefan does." He waits, as patiently as he can muster. A few moments pass; Amelia can hear Elena crying and Bonnie comforting her upstairs; Stefan isn't far. A car pulls up outside of the house.

Amelia tells Damon – and Stefan, because he's been listening intently – that she's one thousand nine hundred and ninety-four years old. And she's a vampire who can't be staked.

Damon is stunned into silence. He'd always suspected her to be a few centuries older than him, but this— this explains so many things. There's a part of him that wants to ask her so many questions, but he thinks she just answered most of them already.

Upstairs, the front door opens. Alaric still hasn't decided what he'll tell Amelia and the others.

* * *

**if you can please let me know what you think!  
**


	18. Quid Pro Quo

**author's notes:** well, it's been a while hasn't it? school has been keeping me so busy with presentations and papers, and the holidays are no different (students over here take their exams right_ after_ the holidays - it's very cruel) hope you still manage to follow/enjoy this series, i am very determined to finish it! i was so excited to see a vampire appear on the show that could compel other vampires :) even though my mythology is somewhat different, it's still nice to see! i hope you all like this new chapter!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

* * *

**MALUM DISCORDIAE**

chapter 18: quid pro quo

* * *

Alaric halts abruptly in the hallway. The house he enters doesn't feel like the same one he left last night. Last night, there had been so much going on, what with Stefan and Damon worried about Amelia, Stefan finding out about what Damon had done to Jeremy; the tension and anger between all three of them had twisted and raged like a firestorm, and now – now the house is devoid of everything. It's dead silent. He takes a few steps further inside, looks from his left to his right, and frowns. Where is everyone? Suddenly Alaric grows fearful: has Amelia made it home at all? Does Damon know he left Amelia in the town hall to fend for herself? Should he be here if that's the case?

He's made it as far as the living room when he feels someone pass him; Damon is by his side before his eyes can register the movement. "Hello, _Rick_," Damon says, his face a few inches from his own. "How nice of you to join us." Alaric doesn't know what to make of Damon's familiarity; is he feeling angry? Disappointed? _Betrayed_? It's so hard to discern between Damon's moods. "Where _have_ you been?" Damon's eyes go mockingly wide, and he waits for Alaric to answer.

There's another rush of air from downstairs, and before he knows it Amelia has joined them in the living room. "Amelia," Alaric sighs, releasing the breath he's been holding. "Are you alright?"

"Any reason why she shouldn't be?" Damon asks, glancing at Amelia over his shoulder. _She told him_, Alaric thinks, but decides it's best he makes no further comments on the matter. He doesn't owe Damon anything, or Amelia for that matter. Why should he care? But there's a tinge of guilt that touches his heart as soon as he realizes he's the one to blame for Jeremy's death. None of this would have happened if he hadn't been so blinded by getting his revenge.

"_Damon_," Amelia warns, and it's enough to keep Damon quiet. Something has changed between them, Alaric notes, and he can't help but wonder what happened between last night and now to bring about this drastic change. Amelia makes her way to him slowly; he doesn't detect even the slightest sign of injury anymore. It's remarkable what a few gallons of blood can mean to a vampire. But he knows Amelia is something new entirely. A new kind of monster. "Thank you for what you did," Amelia says, only just catching how Damon rolls his eyes before backing away.

"What is he doing here?" a voice sounds from the other side of the room. Amelia and Damon turn, and Alaric stares straight into Elena's eyes. She's almost shivering with anger, her hands balled into fists by her sides.

"Elena…" Stefan joins her in the room, but he knows there's little he can do to stop Elena at this point. He doesn't know what Alaric's part in all this is – Damon had told him Alaric tried to kill him in the woods, that he'd led Jeremy there, and if that was true, Alaric really had this coming. He'd trusted him to get Amelia back for them, but that was because his allegiance had been convenient. Now, he's not sure what to think. Why hadn't Alaric been the one to bring Amelia home?

"_What_ is he doing here?" Elena repeats, teeth clenched together tightly, her question directed at no one in particular. Her eyes burn into Alaric. "My brother is _dead_," Elena says, despite knowing that Amelia would prefer another term. But it is still too much for her to accept. Jeremy can't become a vampire, he can't die, he can't become the darkness Damon has infected her life with.

"What?" Alaric asks, and looks at Amelia. He shakes his head, but can't say it. He knows why Elena is angry with him. "I thought…" Alaric hesitates.

"He's transitioning," Amelia says calmly. Damon re-enters the room holding a glass a scotch.

"And that's your fault!" Elena shoots forward towards Alaric. Hadn't Damon said Alaric led her brother into the woods to kill Amelia and him? Stefan catches her around the waist to hold her back. "You brought him into those woods!" Alaric is just as much to blame; Jeremy has no place in this nightmare world, a world that's been tearing her up inside, mangling her heart into something soon to become completely unrecognizable.

"He thought you were a vampire," Alaric argues, but he can't bring himself to raise his voice. He can feel Amelia's eyes on him, because she'd told him about Katherine, about how she was Elena's doppelganger and had fooled Jeremy into thinking his sister had been turned into a vampire. The only reason he himself had been there was for Damon, to get his revenge for what Damon did to Isobel. Jeremy's anger had been an excuse. It _was_ his fault.

But Elena doesn't know any of that. All she knows is that her brother was fighting to protect her. Her anger towards Alaric is justified, but not Amelia nor Alaric confirms it. Alaric thinks that in some twisted way, Amelia might think she owes him one.

Elena crosses her arms over her chest when Stefan lets her go. She looks up at him, but casts down her eyes. She knows that she tells herself that all her anger is directed at Damon, but part of her realizes all too well that Stefan carries the same darkness inside of him. At the same time, she hates that Stefan can probably guess what she's thinking. Stefan hugs her tightly, and kisses her hair, before she goes down to the basement again to see her brother. Bonnie follows her closely.

"Thank you for not saying anything," Alaric says, hating this feeling of owing _her_ this time, but Amelia doesn't even look at him again. Instead, she makes her way out of the living room, leaving Damon and Alaric alone. Damon sees his brother following her outside to the terrace.

"You didn't deserve that," Damon says, taking a few steps towards Alaric, but doesn't look at him. He's well aware that he's leaving himself open for further heartbreak, to hear it from Alaric rather than anyone else, to hear it from a man he took so much from as well. But maybe that's exactly what he deserves after everything that's happened. He's the one that owes Alaric, for freeing Amelia despite his blinding hatred for him, for giving him back what he thought he'd lost, something he could never grant Alaric in return. Who knows where Isobel is.

"You don't deserve her," Alaric retorts, and leaves the room in silence. He still hasn't decided what he's going to tell Amelia about his conversation with Johnathan Gilbert and Isobel. Right now, he thinks it's best to let things cool down a bit first.

Damon is left alone in the living room. He smiles to himself, even though it hurts. No, he thinks, he doesn't deserve Amelia.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Bonnie asks when Elena and her reach the bottom of the small staircase leading to the basement. Elena has her arms wrapped around herself, and seems to be shivering. Bonnie can't tell whether she's still angry, or just cold. She thinks it's probably a bit of both. "I'll go make you some tea," she says, and sees Elena nodding hesitantly. She hates to see her friend go through this again, having to deal with death and loss and everything that comes with that. Meeting Stefan is one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to Elena.

Elena is grateful for Bonnie being there for her; in so many ways Bonnie understands her without her having to say anything. That matters more than anything right now. She doesn't know what she's feeling, there are so many emotions taking hold of her at once and it's so difficult to make sense of any of them. Most of all she's afraid. Afraid of watching her brother making a horrible choice, of watching him die, of seeing him become exactly what Damon is. But most of all she's afraid that her hate will consume her, will take her over and leave her blaming Stefan for all of this as well. After all, he's a vampire too.

Her hands tremble around the handle of the cell door when she opens it. Jeremy is still huddled up in the corner of the room, legs drawn up against his chest, head resting on his knees. "What do you want?" Jeremy mumbles, his tone hard.

"I—I'm just making sure you're alright," Elena answers.

"I'm turning into a monster, Elena," Jeremy answers, too calm. He raises his head and looks at her. There are dark circles around his eyes, and it almost punches a hole right through her chest. She can't watch her brother do this; he'll be dying no matter what. "How could you not tell me about any of this?" Jeremy asks, accusation laced into his words. "What other secrets have you been keeping?"

Elena feels her eyes filling up with tears. "I was only trying to keep you safe," she says, shaking her head. Jeremy stretches out his legs, and gets up from the ground; it takes a great deal of effort. Elena knows he must be in a great deal of pain; Stefan explained how his body will be pushing him to feed.

"Yeah, because that worked out fine."

"Jeremy..."

"How do I choose, Elena?" Jeremy asks, closing the distance between them fast. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her, not knowing his own strength. "Can you tell me that?" His fingers dig into Elena's skin.

"Jeremy, you're hurting me," Elena cries.

"Can you _protect me_ from that, Elena?" Jeremy shouts, backing her up against the wall, almost slamming her into it, but Damon is in the room with them before Jeremy manages to wound her. Damon grabs Jeremy by the shoulder, and pushes him back further into the room. Then he takes hold of one of Elena's arms and drags her out of the room.

"Let go of me," Elena sneers, yanking her arm out of Damon's hand violently. Damon lets her go, and remains silent while he closes the cell door again. "No," Elena complains, but doesn't do much to stop Damon in what he's doing. Tears are streaming down her cheeks when she goes to check on Jeremy, watching him through the bars on the door, but her brother doesn't acknowledge her presence again. Then, suddenly, she turns around and looks at Damon. "Why did you choose to die?" she asks.

Damon is startled by the question, but he doesn't allow it to show. He thinks Amelia or Stefan must have told her. "I thought I had nothing left to live for," he answers, and he knows it's one of the deepest truths he's ever spoken. "And I didn't want to be a monster."

"Not without Katherine, you mean," Elena interjects, and he knows he deserves it even more from Elena than he does from Alaric. "Because you are a monster, Damon."

He doesn't apologize, not because it's not in his nature, or because he's incapable of it, but it isn't enough. Words are not enough. "Jeremy doesn't have to become that," Damon says, even though he's not wholly convinced of what he says. But he can give Elena this one thing. "He can be like—"

"Stefan?" Elena interrupts, crying. "How is that better? He'll still be dead!" she shouts, and closes the distance between them. She hits him in the chest with her fists. "How could you do that to me, Damon?" She hits him again, and Damon takes it, easily. "How could you do that to me?" Elena exasperates, her fists coming to rest on his chest now, forehead resting on them.

Damon puts an arm around her, and lets her cry, but he doesn't apologize. Words are not enough.

* * *

He doesn't really want to do this. Not because he's incapable of it; his brother was the one incapable of remorse or guilt, but because it's proving he was _wrong_, which he knows he wasn't. But this is how it always goes, the way it has to be, because he owes Amelia so very much, because she gave him everything and perhaps even made him into the man he is today. A man capable of love, of guilt. A man capable of apologizing for the sake of someone else's soul. "Mel," he says, and joins Amelia outside on the terrace. The scene reminds him of that one time in 1889 when he ran into her in Paris.

Amelia turns to face him, leaning back against the stone balustrade. "I'm sorry about earlier," he says, hands in pockets. "I didn't mean—" He shakes his head but when he glances at Amelia again she's looking at him in question. She reads him too well. "Okay, maybe I did." Stefan casts down his eyes. Part of him is angry at himself for not being able to give Amelia this little thing, another part of him knows Amelia expects nothing like that from him. "But it was Katherine," he says, looking back up at Amelia. "She's the one who changed him."

Amelia smiles weakly, and turns again, looking out over the garden. "That's not why he killed Jeremy."

Stefan smiles to himself, even though it's a strange thing to do given the brevity of their conversation. "No," Stefan sighs, and moves to stand beside Amelia. "He did that for you." He can feel Amelia's eyes on him. He's never thought his brother deserving of love, even less after everything that's happened these past few days. And yet something in him had him convinced that Damon's love for Amelia ran deeper than anything else had before. "How long have you known?" Stefan asks, not knowing who he's actually asking it about.

"I think the real question is how long has Damon known it himself," Amelia answers calmly. She's always known she loves Damon, known it at the deepest core of her, but after all the lives she's lived it seemed like a strange thing to be granted by fate yet again. She looks at Stefan, and frowns when she sees a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You're pleased," Amelia says, uncomprehending.

"Amused," Stefan corrects.

"Amused?"

He folds his hands together and leans his arms down on the cold stone. "At how complicated the both of you manage to make things."

Amelia laughs, and copies his posture. "Not everyone can live the picture perfect life of Stefan Salvatore," she says, mocking. He knows that while his words from earlier haven't been forgotten, and perhaps never will be, Amelia has forgiven him. Even more than before, he wonders about all the things she's seen in her almost two thousand year existence. He knows those years define her, have left their mark and have made her into this person she is today. So much about her makes sense now.

Suddenly, the sound of a window breaking catches their attention.

Amelia and Stefan look back at the house, and are walking without either of them having to say a word. Once inside, the silence returns to the house. "What was that?" Elena asks, emerging from the basement with Bonnie and Damon in tow, and looks down when she hears glass cracking underneath her feet. One of the windows in the living room has been smashed in, the glass spread all across the carpet.

"Who did that?" Bonnie asks, and looks around the room. Amelia, Stefan and Damon are scanning the room for what could have broken the window, but nothing seems to have been tossed inside. Alaric, also joining them in the living room, is vigilant as well.

"Mel?" Damon asks, and looks at Amelia, but stays within Elena's and Bonnie's vicinities.

"We're not alone," Amelia says, and moves to the centre of the room. She can smell other vampires in the house, but she can't tell exactly how many. As if on cue, a vampire appears behind Bonnie, another behind Alaric, so fast Amelia, Damon nor Stefan can react to it. The female directly behind Bonnie grabs her around the throat, the other one doing the same thing with Alaric.

"Bonnie!" Elena shouts, but Damon grabs her by the arm and drags her behind him. Stefan is by Elena's side fast, both him, Damon and Amelia in a circle in the middle of the room now, all three of them back to back, Elena in the centre.

"Salvatore," the vampire holding Alaric says, and he doesn't take his eyes off Stefan or Damon.

"You know them?" Amelia asks, looking at the man intently, at how his arm is tangled around Alaric's neck, ready to snap it at any moment. She knows that if it comes down to a fight, the three of them are no match for the two other vampires, even though they're probably older than Damon and Stefan.

"Frederick and Beth-Anne," Damon answers, because he recognises them immediately. Damon doubts Stefan ever knew they were vampires, let alone know their names. "They were in the tomb."

"Because of your father," Beth-Anne answers, her eyes growing dark. "We have a score to settle."

On instinct, Damon takes a step towards Bonnie, but Beth-Anne reacts too, tightening her grip around her victim. Bonnie wails, and Damon freezes on the spot.

"No funny business, you hear me?" Frederick says. "Or we kill them."

"Oh please," Damon says, and rolls his eyes. He's hoping Amelia understands there is no other way out of this but by fighting. But he can't exactly tell her that in so many words. "You're here to kill us, and we're supposed to believe you're going to let these two go if we behave?"

"Bonnie," Amelia says. "A hand?" she asks, and hopes that Bonnie isn't too incapacitated to use her magic on Beth-Anne. Damon and Stefan can take care of him; she'll take care of Frederick.

"But—" Bonnie mutters.

"Trust me," Amelia adds, and braces herself.

Next thing, all hell breaks loose. Bonnie closes her eyes and focuses her magic on Beth-Anne, who starts screaming immediately and grabs for her head. Bonnie falls to the ground when Damon and Stefan rush towards Beth-Anne. Elena runs over to help Bonnie up. Damon forces Beth-Anne to the ground while Stefan breaks a leg of a nearby chair.

Frederick is spooked by the whole thing, and snaps Alaric's neck. Alaric falls limply to the floor, but was apparently armed with his high-pressure toy gun, because before Amelia knows what's going on, Frederick is aiming the gadget not at her, but at Elena. _Katherine_, Amelia thinks, Katherine must be behind this.

Stefan forces the stake through Beth-Anne's chest just as Frederick fires the gun. "ELENA!" Stefan shouts when he sees what's happening, but the stake's already rushing towards Elena, and Stefan can't get to her in time. Amelia's just reached Frederick, too late to stop the stake mid-air, but just in time to see Damon position himself between the stake and Elena, just like she had thrown herself between a stake and Damon's body back in the forest. "DAMON!" Amelia shouts, and watches him go down, a stake protruding from his chest. But it feels like something is punched through her chest instead.

An impulse rages inside her; it screams and scratches and _burns_ right through her. She knows what it is, she recognises it all too well, this animalistic instinct, this anger taking hold, pushing her to act out on something so innately human that it cancels out any sort of rational thought. It's all over in a few seconds' time: she catches Frederick while he tries to flee the house, doesn't even blink when he begs for his life. Instead, she grabs his head, tangles her arm around his neck, and rips it clean of its torso. Some people call it exacting vengeance. Most vampires, Damon included, call it love.

"Oh my God," Bonnie exclaims when Amelia tracks back to the living room. By the sheer fortune of luck, the stake in Damon's chest seems to have missed his heart. Amelia releases a breath, and feels tears sting her eyes beyond her control. Why is it Damon that makes her feel so much? "Mr Saltzman. He's dead." Bonnie clasps a hand in front of her mouth and goes to her knees next to Alaric.

"He'll be fine," Amelia says, walking over to Damon. She knows Alaric is still wearing his Gilbert ring; he won't stay dead for long. Amelia goes to her knees next to Damon, who's sitting up uncomfortably.

"Are you okay?" Stefan asks, once again rushing to Elena's side, but she's more spooked than hurt.

"Close call," Damon says, breathing through his pain, and looks down at the stake in his chest. An inch more to the right and he'd be dead. He can't help but think it would have been a sacrifice worth taking.

"Sit still," Amelia sneers. She's fighting back her tears still, and it doesn't help that Damon seems like he could have accepted dying for Elena. _Damn him_, Amelia thinks, _damn_ Damon for making her feel all this, for forcing her to feel rather than just shut everything out. She's never felt guilt or remorse the way that Stefan does, but if Damon had died today she'd have felt things that left her centuries ago. Amelia takes a breath and grabs hold of the stake tightly. She removes it in one hard pull, not even bothering to be gentle.

"_Ouch_," Damon complains, and is hoping that Amelia will help him up. Instead, Amelia stands up without granting him another look, leaves the room and disappears upstairs in her room. He frowns to himself, wondering what he did to upset her, but the answer isn't too far off. Why can't she just tell him, he thinks, why can't she admit to her true feelings for him, if they are there to begin with. He stands up with moderate ease, his wound already healing.

He looks at his brother, hugging Elena. Stefan looks back at him, his brother's eyes spelling out a _thank you_ he knows he hasn't earned. He casts down his eyes. "Go," Stefan suddenly says, and he's forced to look at his brother again. "Go after her," Stefan adds, because he finally sees, this invisible new bond between Damon and Amelia. Perhaps it had always been there, or both had known of its existence but had never allowed themselves to feel its presence. None of that mattered now. Not anymore.

Damon gives his brother one stern nod, and takes off after Amelia. He doesn't want to ask her again, not really, he doesn't want to force the words out of her, those three simple words he had once found with great ease for Katherine. All of that is different with Amelia; there is so much history between them, good and bad, and so much history for her that came before _him_. He wonders if she's ever turned another lover. But then, he never started out being that for her.

"Mel," he says when he enters her room. Amelia is standing in front of the window, staring out in front of her. No, he can't ask it of her again, he thinks, not now that he knows how old she is. Words are not enough, and what could three simple words mean to her now, when she's probably said them to countless of men, and heard them from countless more.

"You could have been killed," Amelia says, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't turn around.

"Better me than Elena."

Amelia draws in a short breath and shakes her head. Damon thinks he can hear her tears. She hangs her head, and then he hears her crying. Not the right words at all. _You could have been killed_ is not what she meant, those were the words meant to disguise a deeper meaning. Perhaps what she really meant to say was she could have watched him die, and he for himself knows how that feels. She could have seen that stake pierce right down through his heart the way he had seen another pierce down to hers not all that long ago. Perhaps she's saying something else entirely.

"Mel," he says again, and moves closer. He puts his arms around her, much like he had done earlier today when she'd just gotten out of the shower. "Tell me," he says, _begs_, because he's always been the straightforward kind, and doesn't like these riddles between them. "Please just— tell me."

Amelia turns in his arms, and looks up at him. There are trails of tears all over her cheeks, yet somehow he's never found her more beautiful than right now. What has she done to him? What _can't_ she make him feel, even without using any words. "You're everything, Damon," Amelia whispers, and it's _everything_ he's ever needed to hear. "You're everything to me."

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**if you can please let me know what you think!  
**


	19. Change Of Plans

**author's notes:** i've been so busy, you guys, so sorry for this belated update! (for some reason i've also decided to write a _Smallville_ and _Criminal Minds_ OC fic, hu) HUGE thank you to everyone that left me reviews on the last chapter of this story! i'm glad my prolonged absence hasn't deterred anyone from reading/commenting :) i hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

**setting:** right after 1x14, goes AU from there.

**disclaimer:** _fic•tion_ [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination

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**MALUM DISCORDIAE**

chapter 19: change of plans

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It's a warm summer day, and the sunlight filters in through the curtains, the tattoo on Amelia's back illuminating as if tiny sapphire stones have been laid in on her skin. Damon stares at the lines intently, almost as if he's trying to decipher their meaning independent of their context. He slides closer to her in the bed, his bare chest connecting with her naked body, his hand creeping around her waistline where the sheets have pooled together. "Hmm," Amelia hums, and Damon swears he can see the sunlight refracting from her dark-red hair.

"What are you thinking about?" Damon asks softly, because he's always wondered what she dreams about, what imaginary scenarios she sets up for herself and others, and him. That desire has only doubled after finding out how old she is. Does she dream about her family? About her husband? Does he dream about being human, like he does?

Amelia smiles, her eyes still closed, and feels Damon's arm sliding higher up her torso, circling around her body in a tight but loving hug. "Rio," she answers. Rio wasn't anything like this. It had been a night just as passionate and surrendering as last night, and it had been a way for her to connect to Damon in a way she had always wanted to. She'd given herself over to him, to his touch, his desire for her and her body, and she'd never felt more alive. Damon always had a way of making her feel less animal and more human. Strangely so.

"Open your eyes," Damon whispers into her ear, and kisses her shoulder. It's surprisingly easy to do this for her now, to wander inside her dreams; he wonders if she's willingly granted him access into her subconscious, or if he's just gotten really good at this.

When Amelia opens her eyes, they're in that motel room again, a poorly air-conditioned Rio room, water dripping down the walls where the roof is leaking, sounds of traffic and passers-by invading their little oasis-for-one-night. "Very crafty, Mr Salvatore," Amelia smiles, and turns in his arms. He remembers thinking, back in 1912, just how beautiful she was, and still is, now, and how that's something that will never change. It was the first night he'd spend with a woman other than Katherine and not wished she _was_ Katherine. Amelia always had this way of making him forget his past. Ironically so.

Damon looks down at Amelia, and she pulls him closer, their lips crashing together violently. His tongue slips past her teeth and moulds against Amelia's; he sucks at her bottom lip hard, until they're both out of breath and have to release each other's lips. "What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?" Amelia whispers against his skin.

Damon smiles at her mischievously, and she laughs out loud, throwing her head back in the pillow. "You really wanna know?" Damon raises an eyebrow, and grabs the bed covers, pulling them up over them both.

Amelia only just manages to suppress a shriek when she feels Damon's tongue hot near her bellybutton.

* * *

The house has never felt so strange; it's like the whole structure has become one holding area for multiple contradictory emplacements. He woke up this morning outside of Jeremy's cell, hearing Amelia and Damon laughing upstairs. Elena had looked at him, yet she hadn't said a word. Her eyes told him enough. How could Damon be happy? How did he deserve happiness at a time like this? Any moment now Jeremy would be making his choice, death or immortality, and Damon – and to an extent Amelia – was responsible for landing him in this situation. How could he even risk the laughter right now?

Another part of him has already decided to rejoice against his will. This might be a turning-point for Damon. He had once feared that it would be his reunion with Katherine, and that it would make his brother worse than ever. But if Damon can built a life with Amelia, his brother might yet fall in his good graces one day. Maybe.

Right now he can hear Amelia and Damon moving around in their own rooms, and the noises make him curious. "What are you doing?" Stefan asks the moment he walks into Damon's room. Damon's got all his suitcases out, and he's packing up all his things. By the sound of it, Amelia is doing the exact same thing in her room.

"What does it look like I'm doing, little brother?" Damon asks, halting in the centre of the room to look at him. Stefan frowns, trying to make sense of this. Damon is running away? What happened to following Amelia's rules, taking responsibility for what he had done to Jeremy, carrying the guilt that was rightfully his to haul around? "I thought you'd be happy," Damon adds, going back to his packing. "Finally getting rid of me."

"Hap—" Stefan swallows the rest of the word. In any other situation, yes, he would be happy to see Damon leave. "Does Amelia know you're doing this?" he asks. All Damon does in response is turn his head to look at him, stacking his collection of black shirts into his suitcase. Stefan realises exactly what's going on. "It was her idea," he says, angry suddenly. He turns and rushes to Amelia's room. "What is this?" he asks strongly. "You're just going to run? Again?" he asks, because he knows Amelia has tried to leave this town twice already. The first time because she couldn't bear the sight of Katherine and Damon reunited, the second time she'd tried to convince him and his brother to leave Mystic Falls with her, before the tomb vampires wreaked their havoc on the town. She'd been stopped from leaving twice.

"It's not safe for us here, Stefan," Amelia says, rearranging some clothes in her bags; she'd already packed the first time. "They know too much about us."

"What about Jeremy?" Stefan asks, trying so very hard not to call her out on this, tell her what a hypocrite she's being for leaving Jeremy behind. They were her rules, and they had become _his_ rules over the years, and he'd seen in the past that breaking them could have ugly consequences. How can she do this? How can she be so calm? How can she be so _callous_? "You're just going to leave him behind?"

"If he chooses immortality we'll be back for him," Amelia answers. _We_, Stefan notes the use of the term, suddenly Damon and Amelia are a _we_ now. Does her love for Damon run so deeply? Had he always mistaken it for something more trivial, more fleeting, more transitory? But _no_, Stefan thinks, she can't just do this, she can't leave this town behind her when the only one who might be able to save people is Amelia herself. How can she even think about leaving?

"You selfish—" he stops himself from saying it, but balls his hands into fists by his sides. "What happened to protecting your family?" he asks loudly. "Or don't I count anymore now that you and Damon have found each other, _mom_?" he uses the word only to make her angry, to elicit some reaction other than this taciturn attitude she's decided to adopt all of a sudden. When it comes to her family – and that's him and Damon now – Amelia has always felt strongly, stronger than he has ever felt it before, even in his human life. Amelia's love for those close to her is stronger than his love for Elena, than Damon's love for Amelia, simply because it is so old, and therefore more intense. That's what it means to be a vampire.

He can tell his words have stirred something in Amelia; she's stopped packing, and looks directly at him. "If I knew there was a way to convince you to come with us, Stefan—" she says, and Stefan understands; she still wants him to come with them, to protect him from what's coming. But then there's that term again, one inclusive of Damon, _us_, and he just can't accept this decision. Damon joins them in the room. "Never doubt my caring for you," Amelia stresses, as if that wasn't the very thing he was questioning. If she cares so much, why can't she help them fight? "And never underestimate my understanding," her voice takes on a more serious tone, but it only makes him angrier.

"Then don't take me for a fool, Amelia," Stefan sneers, taking a step closer to her. Behind him, Damon wonders exactly what his brother is talking about. What is he accusing Amelia of this time? "Frederick and Beth-Anne," Stefan says, "they weren't here for us. They were here to kill Elena."

"What?" Damon huffs, and moves to stand closer to Amelia and Stefan. "Don't be ridiculous," he says, but something is already starting to fall into place at the back of his mind. "Why would they—?" And then it hits him. Who else would send others to do her dirty work? "Katherine," he whispers. "Katherine's behind this?" And Amelia knew? She must have been really serious about leaving town, otherwise she'd have told him.

"You know her better than that, Damon," Stefan says, looking at him strongly. His preoccupation with Amelia must have him really blind if Damon hadn't realised this. When has Katherine ever let anything go? When has she ever been unprepared? She came to this house to get Damon and him back, and when that failed, she probably had about a dozen other plans to fall back on. Like killing Elena. "Did you really think she'd just leave us be?" he asks, and shakes his head.

Damon takes a few moments to think about it, and realises, no, of course Katherine wouldn't accept defeat. When she wanted something she latched on until it was hers. Part of him understands why Amelia didn't tell him, it's another painful punch to his already guilt-ridden conscience, and there's only so much hurt a man can take. But he'd preferred to hear it from Amelia.

"There are over a dozen vampires out there ready to attack this town," Amelia interjects, hoping to make both Stefan and Damon understand why she's leaving, why she _has_ to leave, why she needs Damon to come with her. Last time she suggested they leave town Stefan had convinced her to stay to protect Mystic Falls. She died that night. "We can't take them all," Amelia adds. There are only three of them. "What do you expect us to do, Stefan?"

"I expect you to fight!" Stefan almost shouts. "Like you've done before! Like you've done time and time again!" Amelia casts down her eyes. It's true, time and time again she's fought to protect her family, regardless of what happened to her. But this town, it's done things to her. It did so a hundred and fifty years ago by giving her Damon, and it's still affecting her now. There's no place for their kind in Mystic Falls. Not a safe one. "Amelia, _please_!" Stefan begs when he sees Amelia averting her eyes. "If not you, then—"

Amelia's head snaps up and she looks at him. "Then _who_, Stefan? Wh—" Amelia asks and shakes her head. How can she tell him this? Why can't Stefan _see_ this?

"You can't die!" Stefan shouts.

Damon uncrosses his arms, but remains silent. He's never seen Stefan and Amelia fight like this, especially not about the same thing. They're both just trying to look out for the people they love.

"But I _feel_, Stefan!" Amelia says strongly, and takes a step closer to Stefan. "I've been here for one week and I've almost had to watch you die. I've almost watched Damon die three times! _I've_ died! I'm not—" Amelia shakes her head, her eyes tearing up. Damon knows what she's trying to say. She's not nearly as heartless as she believes herself to be. "It is _too_ dangerous for us here."

Stefan falls silent; he'd always believed Amelia wasn't without her feelings but to hear her say it, to see her display such emotions _right_ in front of him is more than he'd ever dreamed about. Maybe it was true, this town has done things to her. It's done things to all of them.

Amelia walks out of the room, and Damon follows close in her tracks. "You don't owe him anything," Damon says, and it isn't the first time he's thought about how Stefan has nothing to do with this, not with what they share. It was Katherine who turned Stefan, and Amelia only took him under her wing because Stefan was his brother. Maybe, yes, he'd always shared her with Stefan, but his brother and Amelia don't share _this_, not their kind of love.

"Is everything alright?" Alaric asks when Amelia reaches the bottom of the stairs, Damon halting one step behind her. Stefan's and Amelia's shouting had even brought Elena and Bonnie up from the basement; neither of them have ever heard Stefan or Amelia shout like that.

"We're leaving town," Amelia says, and crosses her arms over her chest as if to defend herself, even though it isn't necessary. She needs to say it, she can't stay here. It is too dangerous and the possibility of losing Damon or Stefan paralyses her. Maybe it isn't fair, to the people in this town or even to herself, but it's like Damon said, there's only so much hurt a person can take.

"What?" Elena asks, her voice shaky. "Why? What about the tomb vampires?"

"I should never have gotten involved in that," Amelia answers matter-of-factly.

"You got involved the moment you turned Damon," Stefan says suddenly, standing at the top of the stairs, making his way down slowly. He knows it's one of the biggest lie he's ever told, because it wasn't Amelia who completed Damon's transformation, but he'll resort to lying if that's what it takes to get Amelia to stay.

Now who's the hypocrite, Damon thinks to himself. "You would have rather watched me die, brother?" he asks, vividly remembering that night almost one hundred and fifty years ago now, when his brother shot him, and he shot Stefan. "Again."

"This is something we can't fight," Amelia says calmly, while Stefan joins Elena at her side. "The odds are against us." It doesn't matter how old she is, going up against a dozen vampires fuelled by hatred is suicide.

"What if they weren't?" Alaric says gravely. The focus in the room shifts to him completely.

"Do you know something we don't?" Damon asks.

Alaric takes a deep breath. He hadn't decided where his loyalties were when he walked through the door yesterday, but now he realises Johnathan and Isobel's plan didn't include Stefan or Damon surviving. A few days ago he would have been just fine with that, but now, with Jeremy turning, possibly becoming one of them, with Amelia's strong connection to both Damon and Stefan; he doesn't want to be the one standing in her way. Maybe it's best he sticks to the side he's gotten to know best. "Johnathan Gilbert is planning on using another Gilbert invention," he says, speaking the same words Johnathan and Isobel had used last night. When Johnathan had showed him part of the device, he knew he'd seen it before. "The one Bonnie found in Emily's grimoire. It will incapacitate every vampire within a mile radius. But Pearl has part of the device."

"How the hell do you know that?" Damon asks strongly.

"He told me," Alaric answers, aware that everyone is staring at him. He's not sure how safe he is now that he's told them, but this is the only way he knows how to repent for what happened to Jeremy. That was more his fault than anyone else's. He should never have used Jeremy's grief to exact his own revenge on Damon. "He was hoping—"

"He was hoping you'd turn against us when the time came," Amelia says, almost impressed by Johnathan Gilbert's plan. She's well aware that time might yet come.

"Why are you telling us now?" Stefan frowns.

"Because I don't trust Isobel," Alaric answers.

Elena takes in a hushed breath of air.

"Isobel?" Damon asks, and takes a step closer to Alaric, invading his personal space. Just three days ago the history teacher was ready to kill him over what he did to Isobel, and now he doesn't trust her? "Is there anything _else_ you feel like sharing with us?" Damon asks.

"Why would Isobel want us dead?" Stefan asks. Part of him already knows the answer to that question, but he hasn't been able to verify it yet.

"Because she's Elena's mother," Amelia says. Elena looks at her, and Amelia stares back at her tentatively. Elena doesn't say a word, but her eyes tell Amelia immediately that she takes this information at face value. As the truth. Of course that's why Isobel wants them dead; no matter what, vampire or not, a mother protects her children. Amelia understands that better than anyone.

"What?" Bonnie asks. "How do you know that?" Elena had told her about how she found out she'd been adopted, about Alaric's wife sharing the same name as her birthmother. Are they talking about the same Isobel now? _Another_ vampire? "Amelia, what aren't you telling us?" Bonnie insists, because suddenly Amelia isn't looking at anyone anymore, but seems sunken in thought.

Amelia looks at Elena. "I wasn't going to tell you this. Because it doesn't matter."

"What is it?" Elena asks carefully. Such a big part of her refuses to trust Amelia ever again, after choosing Damon's side, after what happened to Jeremy. But she knows that a whole different part of her wants to see her as the mentor that Stefan believes her to be.

Amelia takes a breath. "I'm your maternal ancestor," she says, still looking at Elena intently.

"What?" Elena asks. She knows what it means, she studied it at school, but still her mouth acts out. She wants to hear Amelia say this. "What does that mean?" She looks up at Stefan, but all he has eye for is Amelia, it seems.

"It means a direct line of descent can be traced from me, through my daughters, to your grandmother on your father's side," Amelia explains. "The line stopped there because she only had sons, your father and your uncle. But it still makes both of them my blood."

"And me," Elena says.

"Yes," Amelia smiles weakly. "In a way."

"That's—" Stefan starts, but he swallows the rest of his statement. Something just fell into place, something he'd been wondering about since he met Elena, and now here it is. Amelia has been watching him more closely than he thinks.

"That's why Johnathan Gilbert kept you alive," Alaric says.

Amelia laughs. "Johnathan and I have a very clear understanding," she says. John had found her several years ago, in his own search for Isobel. "He knows I could never kill him without going against my instincts." It's true, she could never kill her own family. "But he won't hesitate to kill me once I give him what he wants."

"And are you?" Stefan asks carefully.

Amelia looks at Stefan tentatively, but feels something inside her falter. With this device they could have the upper hand. If they play this right, they could all come out of this alive. "Yes," Amelia concedes, but doesn't look at Damon. She turns to Alaric instead. "Call him," she says, and walks away.

"Mel, you can't seriously be considering this," Damon says, following Amelia to the living room. It's almost the exact same thing he told her last time Stefan had convinced her to stay. He'd believed he lost her minutes later.

"Stefan's right, Damon," Amelia says, even though she doesn't really want to admit it. Maybe in this situation she is the hypocrite, going against her own beliefs like this. Balancing her love for both Stefan and Damon has always been so difficult. "We're both involved. We can put a stop to this once and for all."

"Last time you made that decision you got killed. Remember?" Damon looks at her strongly, his green eyes ablaze. "I _feel_ too, Amelia." He uses her full name, because he doesn't want to talk around this again, not anymore, not now that everything's been said.

"If this device does what it's supposed to, we'll have the advantage," Amelia says, looking up at him, standing close. "We'll help the Council, they'll be rid of the vampires, and we'll get out of this town. We'll never look back." Amelia puts a hand on his chest. He realises he wants that more than anything. He'd come to this town to get Katherine back, but he'll be leaving with something far more precious. "We'll never come back here."

"But after this," he says, and puts his hands on her shoulders.

"After this," Amelia says. "This is something I have to do, Damon. You know that."

He does know that. "Still cleaning up my messes," Damon says softly, absentmindedly brushing her hair back. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and kisses her hair. He wants it to be like this forever, this easy, he needs to know that he's earned the right to be happy, or just simply that he's capable of having it and holding on to it. He doesn't know how much more hurt he'll be able to take.

Downstairs, Elena stares at her brother through the bars in the door. "Elena?" Jeremy asks, but doesn't look up. His entire body feels like it's on fire.

"I'm here, Jeremy," she says, but Jeremy doesn't say anything else. She leans her head up against the door, and closes her eyes. She wonders if she should have told Jeremy about everything from the beginning, if this could have been avoided. If Jeremy had known about Katherine, about their resemblance, he never would have been fooled, he wouldn't have been in those woods with Alaric.

When she looks up again, Jeremy is standing directly behind the door. Elena's heart jumps in her chest, and she almost takes a step back, but she forces herself to stay strong. "Let me talk to Amelia," Jeremy begs, dark circles around his eyes. Elena has never seen him this tired.

"Jeremy..." Elena says.

"I don't wanna die, Elena," Jeremy whispers, and grabs hold of one of the bars in the door. He's made his decision. "Please."

Elena stares at her brother hard, trying to discern any shred of doubt, any hesitation, but she can't find any. Her eyes fill up with tears and she feels her lips trembling, but she keeps herself from crying; she needs to be strong for Jeremy now. Elena swallows hard, and reaches for her brother's hand through the bars. He feels cold. "Okay," she chokes out. "I'll go get Amelia."

Her short walk up the steps seems to take forever. It's like time stands still, each next step taking twice as long. Elena can hear her heart beating in her eardrums, louder and louder, her own breathing a distant murmur. So this is it, she thinks, this is the night her brother dies. After losing so much already, she thought it would be harder, but maybe, just maybe, she's accepted the fact that Jeremy could be like Stefan. Maybe she can find herself living with that.

When she reaches the living room, Damon still has his arms around Amelia. Elena stares at them for long moments, and suddenly realises she's happy for them. She doesn't know where it comes from, maybe Stefan's hope that his brother will change for the better has infected her as well. "Amelia," her voice is just above a whisper. Damon and Amelia release each other and look at her. "My brother—" Elena clears her throat. "Jeremy's ready," she says.

"Okay," Amelia says softly, and walks over to her slowly. "You don't have to see this, Elena."

"No, I want to," Elena says, and wipes at her face to get rid of any stray tears. Stefan and Bonnie motion to go with them, but Elena holds up her hand. "No," she says, and looks at Amelia. She looks back at Stefan. "I can do this," she adds, and Stefan nods. He knows this is something between Jeremy and Elena, but she needs Amelia to walk her through it.

She follows Amelia back downstairs slowly. "Will he—" Elena starts, and hugs her arms around herself. "Will he be the same?"

Amelia turns and puts a hand on her shoulder. "He will always be Jeremy," she says. She realises only then that Elena has never seen anyone transforming. Amelia wonders how much Stefan has told her about his human life. "He will always be your brother."

"And the thirst?" Elena asks, grateful that Amelia seems willing to answer every question she has. Normally she'd ask Stefan, and she's not entirely sure why she asks Amelia instead, but she thinks it has much to do with the fact that Amelia has done this before. Sure, she accepts Damon for what he is, a monster, but she's also always accepted Stefan's choices. She finds that comforting.

"Manageable," Amelia answers. She walks over to the freezer and takes out a bag of blood. When she turns to Elena again, her eyes are filled to the brim with concern. She's silent when she opens the cell door, the lock snapping loudly in the wood. The door creaks open, and inside the room Jeremy turns around. "You're sure about this?" Amelia asks, only to hear him say it. No one really chooses death.

Jeremy's eyes are transfixed on the bag of blood in her hands. "Yes," he says, voice laden with thirst.

Amelia looks at Elena over her shoulder; Elena nods, and remains standing in the doorway, just to be safe. Casting down her eyes, Amelia turns to Jeremy again, and goes to her knees next to him. She rips off the plastic tubing, and offers the bag to Jeremy. His whole body shakes at the smell of it. Jeremy looks at Amelia, his eyes desperate. "It's okay," Amelia says softly.

Jeremy hesitates for a single moment longer before he puts the bag to his lips, and then he drinks, greedy and deep.

* * *

**if you can please let me know what you think!  
**


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